


The Beginning of the End

by TheCockyUndead



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3446828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCockyUndead/pseuds/TheCockyUndead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean weren't able to stop the Croatoan virus from spreading. As they try to fix their mess, they run into another group of survivors. The brothers realize there is more to a certain redneck hunter than meets the eye. With Daryl's help, the Winchesters also find that there's more going on than just a simple virus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is how it ends

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote a while ago (so it's complete). I really like it, so I figured I'd share.

**[This is how it ends]**

  
"So this is how it all ends." Sam said, quietly. Dean almost didn't hear him over the Impala's purr. Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam was staring out the Impala's window; his brown eyes were taking in the passing landscape. Since the virus spread, there wasn't much to look at nowadays.

Dean leaned over and whacked Sam on the back of his head. Sam flinched at the contact. He rubbed the back of his head and glared at his brother.

"Hey, stop talking like that." Dean said sparing a glance at his brother, "We always knew something like this was gonna happen—,"

"We were supposed to stop it from happening!" Sam cut him off, angrily.

"And now we're gonna fix this." Dean said his voice was still even. "The end might be nigh, but we still have time to screw with the angels." Dean gave Sam a small grin. "We make our own destiny."

* * *

 "DARYL! Drop the bow. Don't make me shoot you." Daryl could feel Rick's revolver hovering at the back of his head. He was tempted to keep his crossbow up and pointed at Shane. A part of him was itching to push Rick; to see how far he could get before Rick really did shoot him.

With a huff, he finally lowered his bow. Immediately Shane reached forward and snatched the bow out of his hands. Shane didn't look happy. Well, Daryl supposed, nobody really would be happy if some redneck threaten to put you down.

"Hey," Daryl snapped, "give me my crossbow back."

Shane gave him a look, as if to say 'are you crazy? I ain't putting a weapon back into your hands.' Rick held up calming hands. He stepped between the two of them, forcing them to look at him instead of glaring at each other.

"Why don't you both calm down and tell me what happened." Rick said his "police man" voice on full blast. Shane snorted, but proceeded to speak before Daryl.

"This crazy redneck and I were goin' to go out and get some sort of food for everybody. I wanted to check out the grocery store and I told Daryl to go to the gas station, to see if he could find some gas. He didn't take to kindly to being told what to do." Shane paused. Daryl then jumped in before Shane could continue.

"That ain't why I was gonna put one between his eyes." Rick focused his attention on Daryl, while Shane shot him a dirty look.

"Well, see, I was going to do what Mr. Police officer told me to, but he made a comment abou' Merle that I couldn' let slide." Rick looked at Shane waiting for him to either confirm or deny Daryl's accusations. For the first time Shane looked decidedly uncomfortable. He rubbed a hand through his thick curly hair.

"Well, I mighta said somethin' about Merle…" He let the sentence trail off. Rick closed his eyes and then rubbed a hand through his stubble.

Daryl muttered, "I told ya I had a good reason…"

Rick glanced at the two of them and knew that it would be pointless to have them keep scrounging together. He shot a glance at the road where the Winnebago was parked and the rest of their group were beginning to set up camp. Rick scanned the remaining members of the group. He felt a pang, remember everyone they had lost since leaving that first camp and going to the CDC. He tried to push that thought to the back of his head. His gaze rested on the small figure with the baseball hat jammed on his head.

"Hey, Glenn!" He waved the Korean over. Glenn trotted over to the three. He took note of Shane clutching Daryl's crossbow and Daryl's angry frown, and easily figured some argument had broken out between the two men, but then again Daryl seemed angry most of the time.

"What's up, Rick?" He asked, pushing his baseball cap up to scratch his sweaty forehead.

"I need you to go with Daryl to look for some supplies in some of the stores. Shane and I are gonna help get that restaurant Shane found secure for the night." Glenn nodded and looked at Daryl, who was staring at his crossbow still in Shane's hand. Shane let out an angry mutter about something and handed Daryl his crossbow. Daryl took it without a comment and swung it on his shoulder, He started off in the direction of the nearest store, without waiting for Glenn. Glenn hurried to catch up, leaving Rick and Shane by themselves.

Rick turned to Shane. He waited for more of an explanation of what happened. Shane gave a small shrug, his lips pressed into a line. Rick sighed and then motioned for Shane to follow him to look for somewhere they could spend the night.

* * *

 

The sun was just beginning to set in the small town. Rick's group were just beginning to head into the restaurant that Shane had found for them to spend the night, when they heard it.

It wasn't the growl of walkers, but a low rumble of an engine. For a moment it seemed as if a spell had been cast over them. They all stood frozen, then it was broken as Daryl hissed, "We got company!" He jerked his head in the direction of the street. A black object was slowly rolling its way over to them.

His voice broke the silence and immediately Rick was herding the women and kids into the building telling them to stay and not to make a noise. Shane had his shotgun out and was checking the ammo. Dale, T-Dog, and Glenn dived for the first hiding spot they could find, which happened to be behind the Winnebago. Andrea seemed torn between wanting to stay and help the men, but she ending up darting after Lori and Carol into the restaurant. Daryl, Shane and Rick sought cover behind a few of the abandoned cars that littered the street.

They all held their breath as the black object rolled into view. Now they could see that it was an old American muscle car, still in cherry condition considering the hell the country had been through in the past few months.

Daryl leaned close to Rick, who was crouched near him. "That's a 67 Chevy impala. Damn, I wish I had one of those." Rick shot him a look that said, 'not the time or place.' The impala was now directly in front of their hiding spots. It jerked to a halt. Rick's grip on his revolver tightened. Two car doors opened with a creak and two booted feet could be seen from where they hid.

"Sam, what'd I tell you? Someone's looking out for us; we've stumbled upon a goldmine. This town has hardly been plundered. You know what that means….more loot for us." The voice was deep. From the man's few words, Rick got the feeling that these two were only looking out for themselves. His stomach sank. He glanced at Shane, who was hiding a car away, willing him to be ready. Shane nodded slowly, showing his understanding. Rick peeked through the car's window he was hiding behind, to look at what they were up against. There were two men standing next to the black car. From what Rick could see through the window, both were built well, with guns tucked into their waist bands. Rick could see the shorter of the two begin to speak and recognized his voice as the first man who had spoken.

"I saw a gun store down a little ways; we should hit that up and see what we can get." The second man, who was much taller than his partner, proceeded to speak.

"Are we going to drive through the night or do we want to find a place here?" Rick closed his eyes hoping and praying that they would move on.

"Let's see what we can find first, and then we'll make the decision about what to do." They heard the creak of one of the car doors being opened. Rick could see that it was the trunk. Both men were blocked behind the trunk lid. There was a moment of silence then they heard the sound of a magazine being slid out of a gun, checked and then put back in.

"To hell with this," Daryl said impatiently, and before Rick could stop him, he stood up with his crossbow pointed at the two newcomers.

They reacted faster than Daryl would have thought their guns cocked and ready to punch Daryl full of holes. Rick popped up out of his hiding place along with Shane. Immediately one of the Colt 1911s was covering both Shane and Rick.

The two men holding the guns looked more normal than any of the group would have thought. Now that Rick could see them without the window blurring his view, he could see that the one who was shorter than his mammoth companion, wore his hair short. It reminded Rick of the military style hair cut. His piercing green eyes held no sign of fear and his gun was steady. The other one, Sam, had longish brown hair, his hand too was steady and his eyes held no mercy.

"Whoa, now." Rick began, trying to salvage the situation before shooting started. "We're all on the same side. We're not Walkers." Green eyes glanced at Sam.

"They're just people, Sam. Just people." He sounded like he couldn't believe it. He slowly began to lower his gun. "You guys scared the crap out of us. You're lucky that we now use the policy 'look before you shoot.'" Sam rolled his eyes, as he too began to cautiously put his gun down.

"Dean, we never had the saying. You just made that up on the spot." Dean waved a hand, pushing that little fact aside and put his Colt into his waistband.

Rick motioned Daryl to put away his crossbow. The redneck frowned, but slung it over his shoulder and crossed his arms. Rick and Shane made their way forward to stand in front of the newcomers. They exchanged handshakes.

"I'm Rick, Shane, and he's Daryl. The rest of our group is in one of the buildings and behind the Winnebago." Sam's eyes flicked to the Winnebago, while Dean scoured the nearest buildings, trying to glimpse the rest of the group that Rick mentioned.

"Where are you boys from?" Rick asked, wanting to get a feel for the two young men before introducing them to the rest of the group.

"Kansas originally," Dean said, exchanging an amused glance with Sam. Rick didn't understand why that would be funny. "But we're making our way from South Carolina."

"Where're you going next?" Rick asked, this time a little curious. Dean's easy grin fell from his face.

"We're heading toward Sioux Falls. We have a friend there." Dean paused a moment. "We lost communication with him a few days ago…"

"Dean." Sam said. Daryl, who stood outside the circle watching the exchange, got the feeling that there was a silent message in the single word.

Dean turned to Sam, his face challenging. "You want to say something, Sammy?" Sam grimaced, obviously hoping that Dean would leave it be.

"We have to think about the possibility that Bobby's not…there anymore." Dean was glaring at Sam angrily, but Sam had lowered his eyes to his feet at the end of his sentence. Daryl, who knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a murderous glare, was glad to be well out of the view of Dean.

"Don't say that, Sam. Don't you dare say that. We're gonna go there and we're gonna find Bobby sitting in his chair waiting for us with a book on angels. He'll be there and he'll help us figure out how to get out of these stupid mess that we got ourselves into!" Dean practically shouted out the last sentence. As he yelled the last part he reached forward and shoved Sam, hard, in the chest causing Sam to stumble back a few steps.

Before Rick or Shane or even Daryl could react, Dean had turned on his heel and was stalking away.

Rick opened his mouth to say something about staying together, but Sam stopped him, "Leave him. He gets like that sometimes."

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Is his stubbornness gonna get himself killed?"

Sam let out a dry laugh and tiredly rubbed his face. "Nah, Dean'll be fine. He's got his colt and trust me when I say this isn't our first time having to kill monsters." Sam turned away from the men and walked back toward the trunk of the impala, pointedly giving Rick and the others a chance to talk over the situation.

Shane leaned toward Rick. "What do you wanna to do?" He asked lowly, obviously meaning what to do about the boys. Rick shrugged and thoughtfully ran a hand through his short hair.

"I think that these boys may be good for us. You saw the way they were with their weapons. They know how to use them and they could come in handy when it comes to protecting our people." Daryl listened to the conversation only for a few seconds before following Sam to the impala.

"Hey," He said, but stopped when he saw what was in the trunk. "Holy shit!" The entire trunk was filled with weapons and not just guns, but knives and strange looking stakes among other things. Sam hurriedly slammed the trunk shut, before Daryl could see too much more.

Daryl, who wasn't a patient man, waited for an explanation. When none came he took an aggressive step forward, which would have been hilarious if it had been any other man other than Daryl who tried to threaten the 6'4" goliath known as Sam. Sam nervously took a step away from the seething man.

"Look, _Sam_ ," Daryl put a mocking tone on Sam's name, "You best tell me why you and yer kin have those weapons in yer car and don't tell me some nonsense story about killing Walkers." Daryl radiated hostility, his hand resting on his crossbow. Sam swallowed and wished that Dean hadn't decided to walk off.

"You guys call them Walkers?" He let out a small laugh. Daryl narrowed his gaze. "Yeah, so, they're dead and now they're walking. What'd ya call 'em?"

"Dean and I call them Croats." Daryl tried to make sense of that one, but didn't come up with any reason of why the brothers would name the monsters that. He shook his head, angrily realizing what Sam had just done.

"Stop trying to change the subject, boy, and answer the damn question!" Sam sighed resigning himself to tell this odd redneck the truth, or at least some of it.

"My brother and me, we, uh, we…hunt." He said lamely, damn he was off his game, usually he could come up with a better story, but he hadn't needed to for months.

Daryl gave a huff and swung his crossbow off his shoulder openly threatening Sam. "You boys hunt? I hunt and I ain't ever used half those weapons."

"Really you hunt? What do you catch mostly?" Sam asked and cringed as soon as the words came out, knowing that they were a mistake.

"Shit, son, you wan' me to stick my arrow through yer skull?" Daryl barked attracting the attention of Shane and Rick as he lifted his bow to point at Sam's chest. Sam took a few hurried steps back, his hands raised in surrender.

"Daryl, c'mon, man, don't go trying to shoot everyone we meet." Shane said, slightly amused. Rick pulled at Daryl's arms, forcing him to lower his bow. Daryl jerked away from Rick's hands.

"Get off me!"

"What's goin' on here?" Rick snapped, tried of Daryl and just wanting to go to his wife and son and go to sleep. Sam nervously fingered his sleeves as Daryl answered, "These guys got guns and other weapons in their trunk." Shane opened his mouth to say something about everyone having weapons nowadays, but Daryl continued, "Not just guns and knives, but weird stuff too. Like psycho weird." Rick looked as Sam, waiting for him to say something. Sam's eyes flickered toward the trunk and then to Rick. Rick frowned; this wasn't normal behavior, even at the end of the world.

"Why don't you just open the trunk and explain what Daryl is talking about." When Sam still didn't answer Rick continued, "Don't worry, I'm a─used to be a cop. I've see it all." If anything those words seemed to make Sam more anxious.

Suddenly his face relaxed and shone with relief.

"Dean." All three men turned to where Sam was looking. The other man was walking towards them a new duffel bag on his back. He was holding a knife in his hands and was busy wiping it off with a handkerchief. When he stood in front of them, Rick motioned to the knife, "What happened?" Dean shrugged.

"Had to take care of a Croat…or whatever you call them." Shane's grip tightened on his shotgun and looked to where Dean had come from.

"There anymore of them?" He asked all business. Dean shook his head, "No way, man, I took care of it." Dean suddenly became aware of Daryl with his crossbow and Rick standing close to Sam and the impala.

"What's up, Sammy?" he asked his voice suddenly low and dangerous. Sam motioned to Daryl, "He saw our property." Dean's eyebrows rose.

"And?"

"And, he thinks that we're serial killers or something, Dean." Sam snapped, annoyed at the lack of response from his brother.

"Well, we're not." Dean said this time directing his reply to the three others.

A sudden noise stopped the conversation from going any farther. Almost in sync, all five men had their weapons up and pointed at the sound of gravel crunching. It was coming from the shadows of the RV.

"Guys, it's just me, Dale and T-Dog." Glenn's voice rang out. The young men and old man came into view. "We want to know what the hold up is. We've been crouching behind that RV forever." He stopped short when he saw the new faces.

"Uh, hi." He said as he, Dale and T-Dog joined the group of men. Dean gave him a nod and turned back to Sam.

"Let's get our stuff. We're gonna stay here for the night. Tomorrow we'll see if we can hook up with Cas or someone." Sam glanced at Daryl to see what he made of this new development and then followed Dean to the backseat for their gear.

Daryl watched the two boys with narrowed eyes. Something was off about them. They seemed to be taking everything too calmly. Even when Daryl had pointed his weapon at Sam, he hadn't seemed too worried. It was only when Rick had mentioned being a cop and them wanting to see what the contents of the trunk, did he get really nervous. Cops still made Daryl nervous, but it didn't really make sense nowadays. Nowadays everybody was on the same side.

"Daryl. Daryl? Are you listening?" Rick said. Daryl jerked himself out of his musings.

"Yeah,"

"I want you and Glenn, Dale and T-Dog to go the women and kids. Tell them what's goin' on." Daryl didn't wait for Rick to finish before he started to walk to where they had left the others. He was sick of them cops telling him what to do. "I ain't nobody's bitch." He muttered to himself.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**[Band Together]**

Rick showed Sam and Dean to a back room in the restaurant. The room used to be a pantry, there were shelves on either side of the room, but they were empty of any food.

"This is where you boys can stay. I'm sorry it isn't better." Rick said feeling apologetic for the state of the room even though it wasn't his fault that the room was a mess. Dean shrugged as he put down his duffel; it clanked as it hit the floor. Rick wondered for a second what was in the bag.

"No worries. We've stayed in worse." Rick gave a small nod and turned on his heel to go back to where his people were about to have an impromptu meeting about the boys.

When the door clicked shut, Sam turned to Dean.

"We have to bail, first thing." Dean gave him a strange look as he pulled a blanket out from his duffel.

"Why's that, Sam? This people seem good to me. We can travel with them for awhile if Cas doesn't show, and then break off when our road to Sioux Falls comes up." He began laying his blanket out. "Safety in numbers and all that."

"Dean, they're cops!" Dean's head jerked up at that. "What? How'd you know?"

"He told me. Rick and, I think, that other guy too. Shane or whatever his name is. We can't stay with them. They might start asking questions and find out exactly who we are. The infamous Winchester brothers wanted for murder, which is only one of our various crimes." Dean got off his knees and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Slow down there, cowboy. How could they possibility find out about us? There isn't exactly a police force anymore and if they did find out about it, what're they gonna do? They can't lock us up."

Sam glared at him. "They can kill us, genius. No one's gonna protest when two more dead bodies show up on the side of the road."

* * *

 

"So," Rick began, looking at the faces that gazed expectantly back at him. "We're a group now and we're gonna decide as a group what we want to do about Sam and Dean." He waited for a beat, when no one spoke he continued, "I think that we should ask them to stay with us. We could use more able bodies."

"Didn't they say something' about finding their friend?" Shane said, speaking up. "What makes you think they'll even want to stay with us?"

"They're looking for a friend they haven't heard from in days?" Dale asked. He looked for confirmation from Rick. Rick gave him a nod.

"That's what Dean was saying."

"Then it's a good chance that he's dead." Dale said.

"We should just ask them if they want to travel with us and tell them that we think it's in their best interesting." Lori said, "I agree with Rick, we need more protection." She looked at her son's sleeping form as she spoke. Rick's gaze softened and he gently squeezed his wife's hand. She offered him a sad smile. Rick forced himself to continue with the meeting. He turned his head back to the rest of the group. They all stared back at him.

Rick waited for any of the others to speak. He saw Daryl sitting in the back, as usual. Daryl was frowning, but he didn't say a word.Rick let his eyes rest on each and everyone before he said, "Okay, then. In the morning we'll ask the boys to stay with us."

* * *

 

Dean was the first to wake the next morning. For a moment he lay on his blankets and stared at the ceiling. He allowed himself to think about Bobby, Cas, Heaven, Hell, Michael and all the rest of the mess. He could feel it overwhelming him. It felt like he was drowning. _What were they going to do?_ There was no way in hell that either him or Sam would ever say 'yes' to those angels. Michael knew it and so did Lucifer, so they had allowed the virus to spread across the world. Sam and Dean hadn't been able to stop it. _What were they going to do?_ They were screwed any direction they went. Dean bit down the feelings of despair that threatened to bubble over. When he went down, it was going to be on his own time and he wasn't going down without a fight.

"I'm going down swinging." He murmured.

Dean sat up and looked at his motionless brother, his mop of hair spread over his face. His brother looked so young when he slept. Dean missed that face. Now Sam looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Dean untangled himself from his blanket and got dressed.

"Rise and shine, Sammy." Dean said, whacking Sam's motionless form, as he laced up his boots. Sam muttered something into his blankets. Dean cupped a hand around his ear. "What was that? Didn't quite hear you." Sam still didn't move. "Where is Asia when you need them?" Dean asked almost to himself, but loud enough for his brother to hear. Sam's body went rigid and he rose from his blankets, meaning to give his brother hell.

"Why. Would. You. Say. That." He asked, his hair a mess all over his face covering his eyes. Dean laughed.

"I knew it would get you up, college boy." Dean got to his feet and was shoving his blanket and stuff into his duffel, while Sam muttered darkly.

There was a knock at the door. Both Sam and Dean tensed, but then relaxed when a young boy stuck his head through the door. He looked at them with open curiosity.

"Hi. I'm Carl. Dad said that I should come and get you guys. He wants to talk to you."

"Okay, thanks." Dean said and waited for Carl to leave, when he didn't Dean sighed and started for the door. "C'mon, Sam." Sam dragged himself the rest of the way out of his covers. He tried and failed to make himself look at least a little presentable.

Carl led the way through the back of the restaurant to the front where the rest of group was sitting at the tables, eating some sort of a breakfast. Sam noticed with some relief that Daryl wasn't among the groups sitting at the tables. In fact it didn't look like he was in the room at all.

Rick stood when the boys entered. He gestured to where Carol had laid out some food on one of the tables. "You're welcome to the food." He waited until both Sam and Dean had taken something and were munching on the food, before he cleared his throat. The boys looked up, expectantly. They did so simultaneously, not noticing that they had done so.

As Rick looked at them, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen them before somewhere. It was the first time that Rick had gotten that feeling while looking at the boys, though it _had_ been dark out when he had first met them.

"We have something to ask you boys." Sam and Dean waited expectantly. "We were wondering if you both would like to join our group." He held up a hand to stop whatever it was that Dean opened his mouth to say. "I understand that you've got a friend that you're looking for, but I…" He stopped not sure if he should really continue. He had seen how Dean had reacted when his own brother had mentioned that they should prepare for the worst. Rick swallowed and went on, "Look, you have to accept the possibility that your friend is dead. We could use men like you. You've got guns and seem to know how to use them. I believe that it's in both our interests if we band together."

Dean dropped the crust of bread that he had been chewing on. He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. Rick looked at him nervously, waiting for some sort of a reaction. Sam too, was looking at his brother, waiting to see what Dean would do.

Dean cleared his throat. "You're probably right about it benefiting both parties. Though, I have to disagree with you about Bobby." Sam sighed and rubbed his face. "You don't know Bobby. He's one tough old man." Rick didn't say anything, only looked at Dean with sympathy. "I've seen impossible!" Dean snapped, glaring at everyone in the room, daring them to say anything. They all remained silent. "I've seen dead people come back to life." He glanced at Sam, as he said those words. Sam's eyes soften and he sighed again.

"Dean…"He muttered.

"We've all seen dead people come back." Rick said. Dean looked at him, surprised.

"You guys are hunters?" He asked, hesitantly. Rick didn't know what Dean meant by that, but he continued. "Dean, those things out there. The Walkers…they're not alive." Rick said as gently as he could to the man. Dean's face went from completely surprised to furious in an instant.

"Damnit! That's not what I mean!" Sam put a restraining hand on Dean's arm.

"Dean. Stop. Right now." Dean glared at Sam then closed his eyes and took a ragged breath. "Fine." He said his eyes still closed. Everyone in the room held their breath waiting to see what Dean would do.

"Fine," He said again. "We'll go with you guys." Dean stood up and made to leave the restaurant.

"Where you goin'?" Shane demanded blocking the door. Dean looked at him until Shane backed out of Dean's way.

"I've got a call to make."

"Phones don't work." Glenn said, helpfully. Dean snorted. "It ain't that type of call."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and the comment from evave2. I hope you guys are all enjoying this!


	3. Angel Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daryl uses some racial slurs in this chapter, so be warned.

**[Angel call]**

The air was already thick with humidity and the sun was burning hot even in the early morning.

Daryl had been awake since the sun had come up. He was sick of being around all the others, so he had risen early and left to see what he could hunt in the streets. He was on his way back to the building with a few squirrels and rabbits tied to his belt when Dean burst out of the door. He slammed it shut behind him. The sound of the door crashing shut echoed through the small square, causing Daryl to wince; if there were walkers around they were likely to have heard it.

Dean stared at the door a moment before turning. Daryl was still a good 20 feet away and he swiftly ducked into an alley. He'd rather it if Dean didn't see him; Daryl didn't trust these guys as far as he could spit. 

Dean walked a few paces away from the store. He stopped in the middle of the street and shoved his fists into his leather jacket's pockets. Daryl saw Dean's face crumble. All the walls that Dean had put up were striped away in an instant. Daryl looked away; this wasn't something a person should witness. He had seen several people loose it since all this had begun, but Dean had seemed so hard and dangerous. Not one to give up easily. Daryl looked back up when Dean started to speak.

"Look…God. I don't know if you're listening to me right now. But I need Your help. My friend, Bobby," Dean choked on his name and angrily wiped at his eyes. "Bobby…Please let him be alive. That's all I'm asking. I haven't asked You for much, please help me and Sam. We're trying our best here. Just…give us the strength to fix this," Dean stopped.

Daryl was confused. It wasn't Dean's fault that the end of the world had come. Why did he think that he and Sam had to 'fix it'?

Dean started to speak again. This time his voice was stronger and his face was no longer broken. "Cas. I know you're listening. Look, I don't know where you got to and I get it that you're not that happy with us right now, but we need your help. So get your ass down here as soon as possible."

Dean turned on his heel to leave the street, but halted and turned his face back to the sky. "Oh and uh, Zach. The answer is still no. You can tell Michael to take his _stupid_ plans and shove it where the sun don't shine."

Daryl felt a smile begin to curl around his lips. He couldn't help but admire this guy's spirit.

"Tell Michael that Dean Winchester is nobody's play toy."

* * *

 

Daryl went back into the building with his prize of rabbits and squirrels hanging from his belt. He was quiet, thinking over Dean's words back in the square. What had they meant? Why did he seem to think that the world's end was his fault?

"Hey, Daryl," Glenn said passing him to go through the door. "Rick says we're gonna be leaving soon. I'm starting to pack up some of the useful stuff in this place. You could help, you know." Glenn looked at him pointedly. Daryl snorted and gestured toward the meat hanging from his belt.

"I ain't a no grunt. I hunt, boy," Glenn rolled his eyes and continued out the door, while Daryl yelled after him, "Whatcha rollin' your chinaman eyes at?"

There was a faint, "I'm Korean." Shout from outside. Daryl snorted and let the door close behind him.

Inside the restaurant that had served as their place of refuge, a buzz of activity hummed as everyone did their part to quickly pack up their few belongings and scavenge whatever they could.

No one paid Daryl any mind as he slapped his prizes down on the table. Daryl frowned darkly. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed attention, but he wished that he would get some praise every now and again for supplying the meat that everyone ate.

"Hey." Daryl looked from his squirrels to meet the dark eyes of Sam, who stood on the other side of the table. Daryl grunted. Sam cleared his throat.

"Looks like we're gonna be traveling together," Sam tried again.

Daryl grunted.

"So…I guess I'll see you around…" Sam finished lamely and left as quickly as he had come.

Daryl smiled, chuckling to himself.

* * *

 The impala purred to life as Dean keyed the engine. His face broke into a grin as he lovingly stroked the leather seats.

"Hey, Baby," He murmured. Sam, who was sitting next to his brother, rolled his eyes.

There was a sharp rap on the Dean's window. Dean jerked up, startled. Rick stood outside the window, giving Dean the universal sign for 'roll down your window.' Dean complied and Rick leaned his head in a little ways.

"Daryl is going to lead us on his motorcycle and the rest of us are just going to follow. Shane'll be taking the rear; you boys can go ahead of him." Dean nodded his understanding and rolled the window back up. He watched Rick get into one of the cars with Lori and their son.

Dean's eyes clouded for a moment thinking about his own father, who had died to save Dean's life years earlier. Seeing Carl get into the car with Rick made Dean think about all the hours spent driving with his dad. He loved when they would be driving with the windows down and had Led Zeppelin blaring on the radio. He and Sam would be sitting in the back, usually smacking and yelling at each other, with their dad shouting at them to stop rough housing. Did they want him to stop the car? Dean chuckled a little at a memory of when some jerk had sped up right onto Dad's tail and blared the horn. Dean had swiveled in his seat so that he could see the owner of some crap car through the window. Sam, who couldn't have been more than six, had followed Dean's example.

"Like this, Sammy." Dean had said manipulating Sam's small fingers so that only one stuck up. Dean had time to see the crap car owner's face go from angry to speechless at the two little guys flipping him the birdie before their Dad had pulled onto the off ramp.

Dean was jerked from his nice little trip down memory lane by Shane leaning on his horn behind Dean. Dean pushed down on the gas, while sticking his hand out of the window and flipping Shane off.

* * *

 

They had been traveling for a little over 4 hours, when Shane saw the black beast in front of his car swerve on the road narrowly missing the abandoned vehicles scattered around the road.

"What the hell?" Shane muttered to T-Dog and Glenn who occupied the other seats. Glenn shrugged, while T-Dog raised his eyebrows. The impala drove straight for a few seconds more, and then jerked back into the opposite lane before righting itself once again.

"What are those morons doing?" Shane said. He began to slow down as the impala started to pull over on the shoulder of the road. He saw the others who had been leading the way also slow down and pull over to see what was going on in the impala.

_Minutes Earlier in the Impala…_

 

Sam and Dean had been sitting in silence for most of the trip, not wanting to have to talk about what they were going to do, but knowing that they would have the broach the topic of how to save the world.

"Sam…" Dean began, sighing. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and glanced in his rearview mirror.

Dean jerked on the impala's wheel as his eyes met the bright blue ones in the mirror. The impala swerved into the other lane, narrowly missing the few cars sitting abandoned on the road.

Sam wrenched around in response to Dean's jerk on the wheel. His 1911 was out and cocked, pointed at the figure sitting in the backseat.

"Cas?" Sam bit out, letting out a breath of air. He lowered his pistol from Cas's stoic face.

"Cas?" Dean said, looking behind him, but only for a second as the drifted into the opposite lane again. Dean harshly muttered something as he slowed the black car down and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. He killed the engine and turned around in his seat. His brow pulled down in a frown.

"Cas, what the hell is going on? Where have you been?"

"Dean, my brothers don't take kindly to traitors. I've been Zachariah's prisoner for these last months. I managed to escape, when he was busy listening to you pray."

Sam glanced at Dean, wondering what Cas meant by that.

Dean shrugged and said, "I told Zach to go to hell." Sam's lips quirked into a smile.

Cas continued, "That was foolish, Dean, he could have pinned down your location and forced you to his will." Dean shrugged, trying to look remorseful, but failing.

"My brother didn't take your refusal very well. He let his guard down and I was able to get away."

Dean reached out his hand and gripped Cas's shoulder. Cas looked at the hand, seeming surprised by the contact.

"Man, I can't tell you how happy we are that you're back."

Sam coughed, bringing Dean's attention to him. Sam nodded his head outside the window, where they could see Rick and his group beginning to approach the impala.

"Oh, yeah," Dean muttered. "I keep forgetting that we're not running solo anymore." A thought seemed to occur to him, suddenly.

"How did you find us, Cas?" Dean asked, looking pointedly at his rib cage and the Echonican symbols carved in them. Cas was staring at the approaching group and replied, "I followed the wings."

Dean shot him a look that displayed his displeasure at Cas's non-answer. Dean opened the car door and got out of the car, seeing Sam doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

Rick looked a little worried, but Shane looked pissed. Dean rolled his eyes, that guy had some issues.

"What happened?" Rick asked, "Why did we stop? Shane said that you boys started swerving. Are you okay?" Dean held up his hands and gestured to himself, to demonstrate that he was okay.

"Yeah, we're both good," He paused, taking a quick look at Castiel, who still sat in the back seat a interested look on his face. Dean wasn't sure how he was going to explain Cas's appearance. He looked at Sam for help. Sam's eyes were wide and he raised his eye brows in reply. His brother had nothing to say either.

"We had, uh….an unexpected visitor," Dean finally said, not quite meeting anyone's eyes. No one of the group spoke, uncertain of what Dean meant.

"What does that mean?" Daryl finally said, asking the question they were all thinking. He crossed his arms over his leather vest, waiting for one of the brothers to answer. Instead, everyone's attention was drawn to the sudden creak of the impala's door opening. All eyes widened as Castiel unfolded himself from the car. He stood straight, his hands down by his sides. A sudden wind picked up making his tax accountant coat flap around his frame. He stared impassively at them, holding their gazes.

Shane broke eye contact and said, "Who are you?"

Dean winced, shutting his eyes. To anyone else the question would have been innocent, but for Castiel it meant─

"I am Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. I'm here to help the Winchester's save the world." If the group was speechless before, they were down right mute now.

"Angel?" Rick choked out.

"Winchesters?" Shane said, his gaze narrowing.

"What the hell type of name is Castiel?" Daryl asked, pronouncing it like Cas-steel.

"Whoa, now," Dean said, trying to salvage what he could of the situation. "He didn't mean angel as in _angel_ …that's just nutty."

"Then why did he say 'angel' and 'I'm an angel of the Lord,'" Glenn asked raising his eyebrows.

Dean cursed under his breath, grasping for a plausible answer. "Damnit, Cas. Go ahead and run your mouth why don't you."

Cas frowned and tilted his head to the side. "They asked me who I am. I could not lie."

Sam and Dean both face palmed at the same moment.

Shane butted his way to the front of the circle. He pointed a menacing finger at Dean and Sam.

"I know where I've seen you before. It wasn't until I heard your last name that I realized who you were. Winchester. You're the sick bastards, who were on the run a few years back. Every cop in every city was looking for you guys, but then you both died in an explosion."

As he spoke Rick began to remember it too. He remembered coming into work everyday glancing at the billboard seeing both brothers' pictures pinned there, staring at him. Rick's hand went down to his holster and he snatched out his gun. He trained it on the boys. Sam's hands immediately went up, but Dean took a step forward.

"Look, I know it sounds bad, but that wasn't us."

Shane didn't let him continue. He body slammed Dean and shoved him onto the hood of the impala. Dean let out an 'oof' as the wind was pushed out of his lungs. Shane pressed Dean's head into the black hood.

"I don't care if the world has gone to hell in a hand basket, I will make you pay for all those women you killed," Shane hissed into Dean's ear.

No one was certain what happened next, but suddenly Dean had twisted out from underneath Shane's grasp. He gripped Shane's thick arm and flipped him onto his back. Shane lay in the gravel gasping for breath, not quite sure how the world had suddenly spun around.

Dean backed away from Shane, hands in the air as T-Dog and Rick leapt forward.

"I didn't kill those women," Dean said angrily.

"Look," Sam said, trying to calm the situation down. "I know that you've just met us, but you've gotta believe us when we say that we didn't kill those women."

Shane grunted as he got back to his feet. "What about the grave desecrations and that whole thing with the Milwaukee bank?"

Dean cringed inwardly.

"Well…" He began slowly; whatever he said was not going to be good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting a new chapter! And thank for the kudos and comments from Sofiel65 and BranchSuper.


	4. The Winged Tracker

**[The Winged Tracker]**             

“Awesome, Dean. Just great.” Sam grumbled a few hours later. The three of them had been bundled into the back of the RV, hands tied with some rope that Dale had found somewhere. “You had to go and tell them that those accusations were mostly true, expect you _didn’t_ rob the bank or kill those women.”

Dean shifted his weight a little, trying to lessen the rope’s burn on his wrists. He pointedly looked away from Sam’s glaring eyes and instead looked to Cas, who was staring at his tied hands, that rested on his lap.

“How we doin’, Cas?” Dean asked. Cas looked up, but didn’t speak for a minute.

"I am fine. Thank you, Dean, though I am rather uncomfortable with these restraints,” he held up his hands for Dean and Sam to observe. “You don’t suppose we could ask this man here,” Cas paused and looked at Glenn, who was sitting in the back with them keeping an eye on them. “if he could release us?”

Dean snorted. “No, Cas, I don’t think he will.” Dean looked for a confirmation from Glenn. Glenn gave him an uncertain shake of his head. Dean shrugged at Castiel. “Sorry," he was about to say something more, when he heard his precious impala’s engine rev. He sat up and tried to look out the window. 

“Who’s driving my car?” he asked fear tingeing his voice.

Glenn thought for a moment before answering. “I think it might be Shane.”

Dean moaned, while Sam looked on amused. “My poor car.” He murmured to himself.

Sam laughed and even Glenn cracked a smile. He didn’t see how these men who were supposed to have killed people could act so normal and, well, _nice_.

* * *

Daryl led the group on his motorcycle, his hands aching from clutching the handles of his bike for so long. He wanted to pull over and take a break, but he wasn’t no wuss. He wouldn’t stop until it was either dark or Rick stopped them. So he was silently thankful when Rick signaled from his truck for Daryl to pull over onto a dirt road that led into the woods.

The sun was just beginning to set in the sky and it cast a red light on Daryl’s black vest and bare arms. Daryl brought his bike to a stop and cut the engine. He put the stand up and waited for the rest of the cars to pull into the clearing.

When all the cars had rolled in and everyone was getting out and stretching their muscles, Daryl made his way over to where Rick stood talking to Shane, near the RV.       Mentally, Daryl groaned. He wished that he could just talk to Rick without that other stupid cop nearby. He stopped in front of both men, waiting to be noticed. Shane, insolently, turned his back on Daryl and kept discussing the camp’s security for the evening. Daryl ground his teeth, biting back his quick tempered remarks.

Fine, if they didn’t have time for him, he would just go and talk to the prisoners himself. See how Rick and Shane liked that. Daryl smiled a little, picturing Rick’s face when he saw Daryl going into the RV, the horrified look that the trigger happy hunter was in a small space with two wanted criminals and a nutcase.

Daryl elbowed past Shane and climbed into the RV. There were rays of the setting sun streaking through the window, giving him the light to see where the three tied up men where sitting in the back, with Glenn, their supposed guard; Glenn was throwing back his head, laughing. Daryl snorted. Some guard.

"Hey,” he said. “I’m takin’ over. You should get out and help set up camp.”

Glenn had startled when Daryl had spoken; not knowing Dixon was standing behind him. He then looked wary, knowing full well that Daryl didn’t do well with others.

Suddenly Daryl wasn’t sure why he wanted to talk to these boys and their crazy friend, but he still stood to the side to let Glenn through.

There was a silence when the Korean left, Sam and Dean were looking at each other, seemingly communicating through that long look. Daryl snorted weirdoes.

He sat in the recently vacated stop and propped his crossbow between his feet. He felt along his bow string, making sure it had survived the drive. It had.

Daryl felt three pairs of eyes on him; he uncomfortably shifted in his seat. He finally looked up. Both Winchesters quickly averted their eyes, pretending that they hadn’t been staring at him, but other one, the weird one with the piercing blue eyes continued to gaze at Daryl. He felt his tension grow into annoyance.

“Whatcha staring at, jackass?” he finally growled.

Castiel seemed to suddenly to come out of his reverie. He shifted his position on the floor. “I am merely observing the Tracker sent by my Father to help the Winchesters in their fight against the evil.”

Daryl blinked.

“Uh, Cas.”

Daryl tore his eyes away from the unwavering blue ones, to look at Dean, who had spoken.

“I’m not sure that’s what Daryl?” Dean looked for confirmation on the name. Daryl gave a short nod. “if that’s what Daryl wanted to hear…”

Dean suddenly seemed to realize exactly what Castiel had said. “Wait, what?” Dean swiveled on the floor so that he was looking at his friend. “What did you say about him? He’s been sent to help Sam and me? How?”

That was a good question, Daryl thought. He didn’t even know what evil they were supposed to be fighting and what was that bit about being THE Tracker sent by some unknown father?

“Earth to Castiel,” Dean said.

For the first time Castiel showed some sort of emotion on his face: Annoyance. “I am on Earth, Dean. It is because of you and your brother that I am here.”

Huh? Daryl wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was all about, but Dean looked guilty.  

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat and got to his feet, turning his back on the prisoners. He knew that wasn’t the best idea to turn your back on the enemy, but he didn’t want to have to look at those piercing blue eyes any longer.

There was a soft ‘ah’ from Dean. “That’s what you meant by wings," he murmured.

Daryl’s shoulders stiffened. He suddenly remembered the white wings sewn onto the back of his vest. He turned back around, his mouth open to say something angry, but Dean wasn’t paying him any attention. Sam spared him a glance, but turned his attention back to his brother and friend.

“He’s sent here to help us?” Dean asked, looking for confirmation from Castiel.

Castiel nodded solemnly.

“Is he important to the guys upstairs and downstairs?”

Castiel nodded again, this time gravely.

Daryl finally shoved his way back into the conversation, with his usually grace and tact.

“Look, Casteel” he snapped. “I ain’t sent by no one and I ain’t here to help fight some nonexistent evil.” He glowered at them, daring them to say something.

But before anyone could say anything more, there was a scream from outside the RV. Daryl was on his feet in an instant, his crossbow out and ready. He quickly went through the small hall to the door and was about to wrench it open and help take care of the walkers. But his hand paused when he heard a voice that didn’t belong to anyone in their group. So not walkers, but people?

Daryl moved back to the Winchesters, who both looked tense and ready to jump to their feet at any moment, despite their tied hands.

Daryl peered out the window, making sure his face was hidden in the now darkening shadows. Outside he could make out three figures standing in front of Rick, Shane and T-Dog. They seemed to be talking. Straining his ears Daryl tried to see if he could hear what was being said.

“What’s going on?” Dean demanded from his seat on the ground. He was craning his neck, trying to see out the window, but failing.

“Shut yer trap,” Daryl hissed in return, keeping his eyes on the newcomers. With the world gone to hell, it was every man for hisself. You couldn’t be too careful meeting new people. He didn’t like the sign of these three new faces.

Daryl stiffened as Dean was suddenly standing next to him. Daryl turned to him, meaning to snap at him, but he stopped when he saw Dean’s very worried face staring out the window.

“Crap,” Dean muttered.

“What?” Sam demanded, getting to his feet as well.

“We got company, Sam,” Dean said.

Obviously that sentence made a whole lot more sense to Sam then it did to Daryl, because Sam's face fell into a frown as mumbled something. Daryl turned his attention back to the men outside.

One of the strangers smiled and gestured toward the parked cars. Daryl’s eyes flickered over to the cars. He could see the black top of the impala, shining in the last rays of sun. He could hear Rick say something, but it was muffled. Whatever it was that Rick said it didn’t make the strangers happy. Their friendly faces became very, cold very quickly and Daryl could feel the tension shoot up. Both parties gripped their weapons tighter.

The leader of the strangers, the one with the long face, spoke up loudly, ignoring whatever Rick was saying. “All we want are the Winchesters. We know they’re here, we see their car.”

Rick said something again, which made Long Face laugh. “Dean Winchester would never part with his beloved car; he loves it almost as much as he loves his brother. And no he’s not dead, we would have known if either of the Winchesters were deceased.”

Daryl shot a look at the two brothers, both were scowling darkly. Dean saw Daryl watching them. He held up his bound hands. 

“Cut us loose,” he demanded.

“You crazy?” Daryl whispered harshly, “I ain’t cutting you free.”

Dean looked ready to blow, but then he shrugged grimly and began to twist his hands. Daryl snorted, Dean’s wrists were already turning red and would soon begin to bleed. Idiot.

Daryl’s attention was snapped back to the strangers when there was a shout and Rick ended up on the ground clutching his bleeding head. Shane reacted quickly firing off a round of his shotgun before flying into the air by some unseen force.

Daryl was about to dash out of the RV to help Glenn and T-Dog, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Git yer hands off me!” Daryl bit out, before realizing that Dean had both hands out of its restraints.

“Wait,” Dean commanded.

Daryl frowned seeing both Casteel and Sam free as well. Sam was calmly holding a saturated knife with a wooden handle waiting for his brother’s command.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Daryl asked, almost to himself.

Dean chuckled. “Dude, you do not want to know.”

Both their attentions went back to the drama outside, when there was a loud shout of, “WINCHESTER!”

Daryl swore. Long Face was grasping Andrea’s blonde hair in his hand. She was on her knees, struggling to get away, but only succeeding in loosing strands of her hair.

“I know you’re watching, Dean and Sam. You know what I will do to these people if you don’t come out to play,” he paused and looked around the camp. His eyes rested briefly on the RV window, both Daryl and Dean ducked, before scanning the cars. 

“C’mon boys, I just want to talk,” he let out a laugh that sent shivers up Daryl’s spine.

“Dean,” Sam said. “Let’s get this over and done with.” Sam’s voice was cold.

Dean was already nodding. “Let’s gank those motherfu─,”

“If you get any of my people killed or hurt, I will hunt you down,” Daryl said, cutting Dean off. He was calmly putting an arrow into place on his bow, preparing to follow the two brothers out into the dark. Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Daryl ignored them and began to inch the door open.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm in finals week mode, which is why this took a long time to update. Sorry about that.   
> Thanks so much for the kudos, and the comments from booboo, evave2, and BranchSuper!


	5. The Things that Hide Underneath Your Bed

  **[Things that hide underneath your bed]**

  
Dean followed Daryl’s thin, hunched form through the door and into the night. Daryl continued to creep around the corner behind the RV, but Dean preferred to make his presence known to those monsters now. Dean knew Sam was thinking the same thing behind him and he didn’t even need to look at his brother to confirm the plan.

Sam let the screen door slam behind him causing the door to let out a bang. The three men immediately focused their eyes on Sam and Dean.

Dean saw Daryl from the corner of his eye, giving him an outraged look. Dean pushed it to the back of his mind; he couldn’t think about how Daryl didn’t like their plan. He had to focus on the matter at hand.

“Heya, boys,” Dean said casually.

He and Sam sauntered up to the three monsters that stood in the middle of the camp. Dean could see the rest of Rick’s group spread out in a large circle around the three monsters. The leader smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the dying light. His eyes flickered and went completely black. _Demons._

“Dean Winchester." The demon cocked his head to the side. "If you give me but a moment to talk to your brother, I will gladly rip your insides out and let you choke on your own blood. But first I must talk to Sam.” The demon turned his black eyes to Sam, who stood a little behind Dean.

Dean didn’t see Sam tense and tighten his grip on his knife, but he could _feel_ it.

“What do you want?” Sam demanded his voice cold.

Dean suppressed a shiver, if he didn’t know his brother; the man behind him would give him reason to be afraid.

The demon continued to smile. “You know what, Sammy. The boss just wants to talk to you. You belong with us,” the demon said, loosening his grip on Andrea. She scuttled away on her hands and knees, kicking up dirt in her haste.“See. We don’t want to harm anyone, Sammy.” He held up his hands to show his peace.

Sam reacted so fast Dean didn’t even see his brother move. Sam was suddenly standing in front of the monster, his knife buried in the monster’s neck.

"Only my brother gets to call me Sammy,” he hissed into the monster’s face. The demon let out a few strangled gasps before falling to his knees, blood streaming from his neck.

Dean sprang into action as soon as Sam had his knife buried into the neck of the demon. Seeing how he didn’t have a weapon, he did a good job keeping one of the remaining monsters distracted by pummeling it with his fists.

He watched with a detached sort of interest when an arrow came flying out of the dark and buried itself into the third demon’s throat. The third demon looked surprised, but the arrow, of course, didn’t kill it. Sam’s knife finished the job. The third demon fell to the ground leaving the last one grappling with Dean.

“A little help here, Sammy,” Dean grunted as the monster threw him to the gravel.

Sam calmly knifed the demon in the back. The monster fell forward on to Dean. He shoved the body off him and got to his feet. He observed their handy work as he brushed the dirt of his pants.

“That must be some kind of a record, Sam,” Dean said conversationally. “I think that’s the fastest we’ve ever killed demons.”

Sam thoughtfully toed the nearest monster. It shifted slightly, causing more blood to seep through its wound.

“I dunno, Dean, I think we’ve been faster. It would have helped if you had the colt or something.”

“Speaking of…” Dean trailed off as noticed that Rick’s people were slowing starting to inch forward. Dean could see the two kids also beginning to come forward with their mothers.

“Hey,” he shouted, startled everyone, “Don’t let those kids come any closer. They don’t need to see this.” Rick’s wife Lori immediately backtracked away from the bodies with Carl, closely followed by Carol and her daughter.

The rest of the group continued forward until they formed a small circle around the Winchesters and the bodies. They were all staring at the scarlet blood making the dirt thick and wet at their feet. All of them except Daryl, Dean noticed. Daryl was instead watching both of the brothers with narrowed eyes.

“Hey,” Dean said gesturing to the body with the arrow. “Nice shooting.”

Daryl gave a short nod and then leaned over placing his boot on the demon’s head in order to rip out his arrow. It made a sucking noise, breaking the silence that had fallen.

Shane was suddenly in Dean’s face. “What the hell was that? What did they want?” he snarled.

Dean backed up a few steps, Shane was a big guy. He held his hands up in an easy manner.

“They were threatening the safety of the group and we eliminated the danger,” Sam said from behind Shane.

Shane turned around to face Sam and it was now Shane’s turn to back away. Sam towered over Shane and his face was calm, but the message was clear: Nobody messes with Dean.

“Hey, hey,” Rick said stepping in. His head was dripping blood from it had met the ground. “We need to talk about this peacefully, but we can’t do that without our camp set up and no one on sentry duty. We get that done and then you two,” He pointed at Sam and Dean. “are gonna start talking.”

* * *

 

  Daryl stared into the flames of the campfire, fiddling with one of his arrows.

He wasn’t happy with those two lunatics. They had completely ignored him when they had gone out to kill the intruders. Instead of coming in quiet, using the element of surprise, they stood in plain view announcing their existence to the world. Sam had then somehow killed all of them with his hidden knife, while Dean got the crap beat out of him. They worked well as a team, Daryl grudgingly admitted. They probably hadn’t needed his help.

He glanced around the circle of faces sitting around the small fire. He could see their entire group, expect for the two kids, waiting for Sam and Dean to join them and explain what the hell had happened. Daryl turned his gaze to where he could see the dark shapes of the two boys, plus their crazy friend standing near the impala. They were talking to each other in low voices. Daryl could catch snippets of their conversation, but what he heard made no sense to him. Stuff about angels and demons. And some other stuff about salt and holy water. Daryl wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were talking about.

Daryl’s attention came back to the circle of faces as Shane gave a loud sigh.

“Are they gonna come and talk to us anytime soon or we gonna let them keep chattin’ over there?” he asked.

Daryl frowned. That man really got on his nerves sometimes.

Rick answered Shane. “I dunno, man. But we gotta let them take their time. They saved our hides back there.” It was if the spell was broken. The silence that had reigned was no more. Everyone seemed to want to say something at once.

“What were those things? I don’t ─”

“Guess they’re not murderers after all─”

“Was anybody even on sentry duty when─”

Daryl couldn’t take all the stupid questions and all the noise. He could see from their shapes that the Winchesters and Casteel had stopped talking and were listening in.

“Why don’ you all jus’ shut the hell up!” Daryl snapped. That seemed to do the trick. Everyone fell silent and looked at Daryl in surprise.“They can hear…” he muttered.

Almost as one, everyone’s head swiveled to look at where the Winchesters stood.

“Why don’t you boys c’mon over here,” Rick called out to them.

In less than a second both Winchesters and Castiel stood just outside the circle. Several people scooted over on the ground to make some room for the boys to sit. The brothers hesitated before the lowered themselves to the dirt, but Castiel didn’t move.

“Cas,” Dean said. Castiel looked down at him, his head cocked to the side. “Sit down.” Cas looked at Dean, then at the empty space next to him. Slowly he eased himself down.

Dean wiggled in his spot a few times, and then reached behind his back. When his hand returned to the firelight his colt was in his hand. Dean grinned at the faces around him.

“It gets a little uncomfortable sometimes in the back of my pants.”

Sam snorted and suddenly the tension that had risen when they had entered the circle broke and everyone relaxed again.

“We would really like to know who those men were,” Rick finally said. “We can see now that we made a mistake about you boys. Maybe you really were falsely accused about those murders. You saved our lives and I want to apologize you tying you up.”

“That’s alright, man,” Dean said. “Happens to us all the time.”

There were a few chuckles. Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Rick.

“You were doing what you thought was best for your family,” Sam said his voice serious. “We understand that better than most.”

Dean grew somber next to Sam. He nodded his agreement.

“Sam and I…we’re all that’s left.” Dean joined in. He glanced at Cas. “Well, Sam, Cas and I.” His mouth quirked into a quick grin, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. “We’ve lost a lot of people since before…since this all began. Bobby, Jo, and Ellen.” He fell silent.

Dean put his face into both his hands for a second. Sam was quiet, next to his brother. He hesitantly lifted a hand to put on Dean’s shoulder, but seemed unsure if it would be welcome or not. Dean saved him the trouble of having to decide. His face came back up and a hard light glinted in his eyes.

“I know that you guys have some questions about the men back there,” he said. “Sam and I are willing to answer them.”

At first no one was sure what to ask, they seemed a little put off by Dean’s sudden change in moods.

“Who were they?” Dale finally asked, his voice low.

Dean shared a glance with Sam. Sam gave him a small nod.

“Those guys have been looking for Sam and me since before the virus. We, uh, well, we didn’t have the most safe or legal job out there.”

Shane frowned and leaned forward in his seat. “What did you boys do?”

“Look we─I, uh,” Dean stopped. He rubbed a hand across his tired face. “I don’t really know how to put this…Sam and I…we hunt monsters.”

There was complete silence around the fire. The burning logs snapped, seeming to echo in the silence.

“Are yah high?” Daryl asked. He had some experience with people getting high, his brother being one of them. 

“You know, I’ve gotten asked that more times than I can count and no I’m not,” Sam said. “Look, it’s hard to explain, but I think that you guys will be able to grasp the concept. I mean you guys have seen the dead come back to life. I think that you can understand that there are more than just Croats…Walkers out there.”

Still no one in the group said anything. Finally Rick spoke up. His voice was strained, but calm. “Tell us.” he commanded.

Sam glanced at Dean, silently asking which one of them should do the telling.

_You do it, Sam._

_I did it last time._

_My first explanation didn’t go over very well. They think I’m on drugs. Besides you do that puppy dog thing._

Sam frowned at Dean, _jerk._

 _Bitch_. Dean smirked back.

There was a loud sigh from across the fire. Dean broke eye contact with his brother and looked to where the sound had come from. Daryl’s face could be seen staring back at him. His blue eyes impatiently waiting for them to explain.

“Yah two done chattin’?” Daryl asked.

Dean shrugged. “Yup."  

"Okay," Sam started, shooting a long suffering glare at Dean. "Our story is long. It starts a few months after I was born, but you don't need to know all the details. Just know that we grew up in this life after our mother was killed by a demon." 

“Demon?” Dale interjected. “There’s no such thing.”

“Months ago you would have said there’s no way dead people could come back to life, yet here we are.” That seemed to shut the older man up.

“Those things that Dean and I killed back there were demons,” Sam added nodding in the direction of where they had killed the monsters. The group stared back at him, unable to believe that those men had been anything supernatural. 

“Wait.” Andrea said before Sam could continue. “The only monsters out there are Demons and Walkers?”

Sam raked a hand through his long hair. “No,” he said, shortly.

He shot a glance at Dean. _Do we really want to tell these people everything?_  

Dean shook his head,  _No._

“Look," Dean said, cutting into the story. "All you need to know for now is there are stuff out there that is dangerous, more dangerous then the Croats. You need to stick with us and when we tell you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.” Dean stopped and glared at the glowing faces around the fire, making sure they understood his order.

Shane and Rick were frowning at him. Dean was edging into their territory but he didn’t care what they thought, it was now his responsibility to take care of these people and help them survive. He got to his feet, brushing off his jeans.

“Wait,” Rick commanded. “You haven’t told us why the…demons were after you.”

Dean stopped and looked back at the faces around the fire. He face was covered by the shadows, but everyone could see the tension on it. 

“You don’t need to know the reason why they wanted to rip my guts out. Just know they they’re dangerous.”

Daryl leaned forward and noted with interest that Dean didn’t say _our_ , as in him and Sam, but _my_.

“Dean,” Sam said, from his seat. “Tell them. It’s my fault, they should know.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a second.

“Look. Those demons, they want my brother. They want him to become one of them. They want him to join their ranks. But I’m not gonna let that happen.”  Dean glared at the silent faces around the fire. “Not ever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments from evave2 and BranchSuper


	6. Herd

**[Herd]**

They were back on the road again, driving down a seemingly endless highway with Daryl leading the way again on his bike.

Daryl had time to think as he drove down the road. It was just him and the wind.

Daryl still wasn’t sure what to make of the newcomers or their crazy story about demons. If they were telling the truth about that, then the strange one in the trench coat must have been telling the truth about being an angel…or he really was crazy. Daryl frowned into the wind, his hair fluttering on his head. He didn’t know what to believe. He had never believed in anything like this before. He had scoffed at monsters and laughed at the idea of a higher power. Rick seemed to trust the Winchesters though, and that was good enough for Daryl for the time being.

Daryl squinted through the glaring sun. There were piles of cars, scattered haphazardly on the highway not far in front of them, blocking the way. He began to slow his bike down and raised a hand so that Dean, who was driving behind him, would see the mess ahead.

When he the broken cars were directly in front of Daryl, he stopped his bike and killed the engine. Getting off the bike, he stretched out his stiff muscles and waited for the others to get out of their vehicles.

The black impala rolled to a halt behind Daryl’s bike. Daryl couldn’t help but eye the black beast with appreciation; he may not care for her owners, but she was a beauty.

The impala door opened and Dean pulled himself out. He grinned at Daryl, who swiftly looked away, trying to pretend that he hadn’t been staring.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Dean said, coming up to Daryl.

Daryl didn’t say anything.

“I got her from my dad as soon as I was able to drive…well, _legally_ drive,” Dean laughed.

Daryl finally looked at Dean’s face.

Dean was relaxed and he genuinely seemed interested in hearing Daryl’s opinion on his car.

“She’s in good condition,” Daryl said.

Dean seemed delighted that Daryl had spoken up. He nodded enthusiastically. “I try to take care of the girl. She’s been through enough, but I figure the end of the world won’t kill her.”

Daryl didn’t say a word, but Dean seemed to understand that Daryl was silently asking what he meant by that.

“A couple years back, she was t-boned by a semi. I fixed her up from scratch. Other than that there have only been a few minor injuries. Nothing I couldn’t take care of,” Dean continued as Sam and Castiel came up beside him, the rest of the group not far behind.

Dean’s face seemed to suddenly darken.

Daryl froze, wondering if he had done something that the other man hadn’t liked. But he hadn’t been doing anything, only listening to Dean talk and fiddling with his crossbow.

Dean saw Daryl stiffen, and he frowned. He shook out his shoulders, trying to lessen the tension. He lifted a hand to clap Daryl on the shoulder. Daryl flinched and moved before the hand could touch him.

Dean let his hand drop and didn't say anything about it. 

After a beat Dean said, “I’m sorry, man, about my mood swings. I was just thinking, I used to fix her up at my friend Bobby’s place. He owned a junkyard.”

Daryl relaxed slightly and shrugged. “Yeah, whatever.”

He turned his back on Dean and wove his way through the cars. He hopped onto the hood of one and took a long look around the surrounding area. 

Daryl tried to ignore Dean’s eyes staring into his back. He twitched his shoulders uncomfortably. He hadn’t meant to flinch away from Dean’s touch and he knew that Dean was wondering what that had been all about. But Daryl wasn’t going to bring it up and knew that Dean certainly wouldn’t.

“What do you see, Daryl?” Rick’s voice came from behind him.

Daryl turned to face Rick, his boots squeaking against the dusty car, and then jumped down from the hood.

“There ain’t nothing out there. Just abandoned cars for miles.”

Rick frowned and turned his attention to the rest of the group milling around their parked cars. 

“Hey,” Rick called out motioning his people over to him with his hand. “Listen up. We’re gonna stay here for awhile until we figure out a plan. For the time being, I think it’s best if we see what we can scrounge in the cars.” 

He got a few nods from some of the group members, but others simply started to move through the rows of cars, looking for anything useful.

* * *

 

 Daryl found himself, once again, next to Dean and Sam. He let out an annoyed huff as the two brothers followed him. He quickened his pace, hoping to discourage conversation with them. It did. With him anyway. They proceeded to talk to each other, completely ignoring Daryl.

“Hey, Sam. You remember that town we went to? When we tangled with War?”

“Yeah.”

Silence from both the brothers. War? Daryl thought, What the hell?

“What does that have to do with anything, Dean?”

Daryl glanced behind and saw Dean shrug.

“Dunno, I was just thinking that all these abandoned cars reminded me of that town…and then Jo and Ellen.”

Daryl looked behind again. He had expected Dean’s face to be sad and angry like the last few times he had mentioned any of their past friends, but it wasn’t. Dean was thoughtful and maybe even a little happy remembering his friends. Daryl noted that even Sam looked a little surprised at the change in his brother.

“Yeah, Dean. I guess it does kinda remind me of that crazy town.”  

They both shared a chuckle.

What was wrong with these two? He spun around on his heel almost whacking Dean in the face; Dean had been standing closer behind him than he had thought.

Dean and Sam backed up from Daryl, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his flying hands.

“Why don’ yah two shut up and give me some peace,” he said, realizing that it a lame excuse for the two brothers to shut up.

The Winchesters thought so too. He could tell from the looks that they gave each other and then him. But they didn’t say a word.

There was a shout behind them. All three jerked their attention to where it had come from.

“Cas…” Dean muttered and took off in the direction that they just had come. From where they stood Daryl could see the strange man standing next to Shane trying to help him with lifting something that looked like jugs of water, but he had only succeeded in dropping the jug onto Shane’s booted foot.

Daryl was amused to Shane hopping around, trying not to put any weight on his injured foot, yelling obscenities at Castiel.

Daryl’s amusement withered away when Shane started taking threatening steps toward the other man. Castiel remained frozen in the same spot, staring Shane straight in the eye. That didn't deter Shane, and he continued to stomp over to Castiel. 

Daryl reached for his crossbow, fully intending to shoot a warning arrow at Shane or something, anything to get that man away from Castiel. His hand hit open air; there was nothing on his back. Daryl muttered a curse, realizing that he had left his weapon slung onto his motorcycle. Stupid,  _stupid._ _  
_

“Hey.”

Daryl looked back up at the sound of Dean’s voice; it was low and dangerous.

Dean was now standing between Shane’s hulking form and Castiel’s thin one.

“You mind telling me what’s going on here?” Dean asked, his voice calm, but cold.

Shane glowered a moment before he answered.

“That moron−.”

Dean interrupted him evenly, “His name is Castiel.”

That seemed to throw Shane for a moment, but he growled and continued, “That…guy dropped a jug of water onto my foot.”

Daryl snorted. Pussy.

“Hmm,” Dean said.

Daryl let out a small laugh, attracting the attention of Sam who was standing next to him. He was surprised to feel a grin slip onto his face and even more surprised when Sam returned the smile. Daryl quickly turned back to the spectacle unfolding before them.

“Look, Shane, it was an accident. Obviously Cas didn’t mean to drop the _huge_ jug of water onto your foot.” Dean was letting some of his obvious contempt for the man bleed through his words.

Shane’s eyes narrowed.

“Just shake hands and move on,” Dean finished, stepping aside so that the two could do just that. Castiel looked lost by what Dean meant for a moment, looking to his friend for confirmation on what he was suppose to do.

Dean shook his head a little and demonstrated. Understanding lit up in Castiel’s face.

“I see.” He held out his hand uncertainly to Shane. “I’m truly sorry that I let the jug fall on your foot.”

Shane fumed a moment more before taking the other man’s hand in his own. He let go quickly. 

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean said, taking his friend’s arm, “You stay with Sam, Daryl and me.”

When Dean and Castiel were standing next to Daryl again, he let out a snort.

“Y’all done with yer drama? We got work ta do.”

* * *

 

Dean almost didn’t see the Croat until it was right on top of him. It was silently dragging its feet through the loose gravel, lumbering toward Dean. It seemed to have seen him and it was letting out choked growls. Dean’s hand found his knife at his side and he disposed of the monster with a quick jab to the skull.

Dean swiftly turned to his brother and Castiel who were a little ways ahead of him, busily going through different items in cars.

“Sam,” he said, lowly.

Sam’s head snapped up, hearing the warning tone in Dean’s voice. His eyes widen and his mouth opened to yell a warning to Dean, but it was a second too late. Dean felt the grasping hands pull at his shoulders and the snarl of a Croat in his ear. 

Struggling in the monster’s grip, Dean smashed his head backward. He felt bone snap under his head. Unfortunately, the Croat wasn’t affected like a normal person when a bone broke and its clutch didn’t loosen.

There was a hiss and Dean felt the air disturbed next to his head. The hands fell away from his shoulders and Dean jumped away from the Croat.

The monster lay on its back an arrow embedded through its head. Dean’s head swiveled behind him, seeing a grim Daryl with his crossbow fixed next to his face.

“Behind you!” Daryl hissed, motioning Dean to get down.

Dean took the order in a stride, falling to his stomach; he crawled under the nearest car. He then looked to what Daryl had seen behind him.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, seeing a mob of Croats, shambling through the rows of cars. He looked anxiously to where his brother and Castiel had been standing. They had both disappeared, which was a good thing, Dean told himself.

There was a crunch of gravel as Daryl dropped to the ground. He pulled the corpse he had killed over him, covering him from view. Daryl’s head moved slightly so that he could see Dean under the car’s belly.

“Shh,” Daryl whispered, as the first few Croats reached them. Daryl’s blue eyes closed and he seemed to be holding his breathe.

The Croats shuffled by the two men; there seemed to be an endless amount of them.

Dean could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the bite of the loose gravel on his palms. He could taste the fear in his mouth and his breathe came out in short and quiet pants. 

Dean felt helpless. Sam and Castiel were out there on their own, out of his view. What if something happened to them and he wasn’t there? Dean sternly forced those thoughts aside. He couldn’t be thinking like that. Not yet.

After what seemed like an eternity, the flow of Croats slackened and then stopped completely; they were gone.

Slowly, Dean eased himself out from beneath the car and unfolded his tense legs so that he was standing over Daryl, who was beginning to shove the corpse off him.

“Here,” Dean said offering a hand.

Daryl hesitated a second before accepting the proffered hand.

Once Daryl was on his feet, Dean turned and shaded his eyes, squinting into the sun.

“Sam!” he said as loudly as he dared. “Cas!”

There was no reply. Dean felt fear rise in his chest. _Where were they?_

“Sammy! Cas!” He moved past the cars to where he had last seen them. “Damnit!” he bit out the curse, viciously. This is what happened when he wasn’t there to keep an eye on them. He should have been closer to them when the monsters had first started coming.

He angrily pounded a palm against his forehead

“Hurtin’ yerself ain’t gonna do nobody any good.”

Dean registered the voice next to him. He looked to the side. Daryl was still standing slightly behind Dean and had followed him when Dean had been calling for his brother and friend. Dean was a little surprised that Daryl was still here with Dean and not gone back to where they had left the rest of the group.

The man was right of course. Dean needed to be in full condition if he was to find Sammy and the angel.

Dean took a few deep breaths, thinking of what to do next. Daryl waited patiently, his fingers drumming on his crossbow.

“Okay,” Dean finally said. “We shouldn’t split up to look for them. We need to stay together.” Daryl was nodding his agreement. “We should−,”

 “Dean.” There was a rustle of feathers behind them and Dean felt a cool breath against his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Daryl’s eyes widen and he jumped away, his crossbow coming up.

Spinning quickly Dean stood inches from Castiel’s stoic features. Dean closed his eyes and let out a tense breath.

“Cas. Personal space. How many times do we need to talk about this?”

Cas took one precise step away from Dean and Dean’s mouth quirked into a small smile.

“My apologies.”

Dean heard a muttered, “What the hell?” from Daryl, but chose to ignore the other man, instead turning his mind to the most important missing piece of their small group.

“Sam?” Dean asked Cas all business. Hunter and soldier mode on full blast.

“Right here.” Sam’s voice came a few feet behind Dean.

Dean turned to see his tall brother coming toward him, knife in his large hand.

Dean took two strides to meet Sam and gave him a short shove with his open palms. Sam stumbled back, surprise written over his face; this wasn't the reception he had been expecting.

“Don’t you do that again, Sam!” Dean growled. “You answer me when I call!” The words felt familiar on his tongue, and Dean knew that this wasn't the last time Sam was going to disappear on him.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he understood Dean’s fear. He reached out a steady hand, placing it on his older brother’s shoulder, holding Dean in place. 

"Dean. It’s fine. I’m good.”

Dean shrugged off the hand, but Sam caught the relief in Dean’s green eyes.

“Good,” Dean said shortly. He nodded to the bloody knife. “Any problems?”

Sam wiped the blade clean and put back into its sheath.

“None that I couldn’t take care of.”

Before the brothers could continue their conversation there was a shout from the direction of where the rest of the group had been. All heads turned to see Glenn, flying between the cars, eyes wide. 

“Guys! Get over here! We have a major problem.” He skidded to a halt before Daryl and Cas. He put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

“What?” Daryl demanded impatiently. “Spit it out!”

Glenn took a few more breaths, than said, “Sophia’s gone.”       

              

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a hard time editing this chapter (because it's kinda crap), but I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway.   
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from BranchSuper!


	7. Into the Woods

**[Into the Woods]**

Sam wasn’t sure if he should say something to the man walking next to him. Daryl had taken off like a shot after Glenn had told them about the missing little girl. Dean had shoved him after the Daryl, saying something about having to stay with Cas.

Sam, following his brother’s orders, hurried to keep up with thin, determined man.

The Georgia woods surrounded them, blocking out most of the glaring sun. There was almost no sound among the trees; all they could hear was the soft rustle of bird wings and the snap of the twigs and leaves underfoot. Well, under Sam’s feet anyway; Daryl’s soft steps didn’t make a sound.   

“Sophia!” The sudden yell from Daryl startled both Sam and the surrounding wildlife. Daryl shouted again, this time louder than before.

“Damnit!” Daryl snapped, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. “Why didn’t that girl stay put?” he muttered to himself.

Sam didn’t say anything, thinking that it was probably wise for him to keep his mouth shut−something Dean had never been able to do. Sam felt a small smile creep onto his lips, thinking of the various times that Dean’s smart mouth had gotten them into trouble.

“The hell you grinning at?” Daryl said angrily, jolting Sam back down to earth.

“Nothing,” Sam stuttered out. He kept forgetting that Daryl didn’t like him that much. He had seen Dean talking to him and they seemed to get along just fine. “I was just thinking of my brother.”

Daryl muttered something that sounded like, “Damn Winchesters.”  and turned his back on Sam to continue searching the woods.

Sam glared at Daryl’s back. He could take shit from people for awhile, but there was a point where he would finally snap.

“Hey!” he shouted, louder than he intended, but it did the trick of getting Daryl’s attention.

Daryl turned back so that he was facing Sam once again. He seemed a little startled that Sam had shouted back at him. Sam strode forward, until the two men were standing only a few feet apart.

“Look, Daryl.” Sam had trouble forcing the word out; he was itching to call the redneck something else that was not so flattering. “You may not like me that much, same here, but my brother seems to get along with you and I’m trying my best to see what he sees in you. You’re not making it very easy for me. Maybe try and respect what I have to say next time,” Sam finished abruptly. He stalked past the motionless hunter and angrily continued through the underbrush.

Sam took a few deep breathes, trying to calm down. He seemed to being doing that more often; he was always getting angry at something, more so now that end times had come. Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Dean still believed that they could fix this mess, but Sam knew better. If they did manage to somehow repair the damage he had caused when he let Lucifer out, it wasn’t going to be without casualties. Already they had lost Ellen and Jo; most likely Bobby too. One of these days, either he or Dean would finally draw the short straw. They wouldn’t be coming back this time. Both of them had used up their nine lives.

Sam was going to make sure that it wasn’t Dean who would die for his mistakes. It was up to him to finish this, and no matter how much Dean would want to do it for him, it was Sam’s job and no one but him could do it.

Sam slowed down his furious pace. He paused in a small clearing among the trees. Glancing around, he noticed for the first time that he was alone. He spun in a full circle.

"Daryl!” he called, panic beginning to set in. Sam wasn’t a woods guy, he didn’t know which way was back to the group. “Daryl!” he called again, “C’mon. Stop messing with me. I mighta pissed you off, but that’s not a good reason to act like a child.” Sam cringed as his words faded with no answer. So that might not have been the best route to get Daryl to show himself.

Sam cursed as he waited longer. Where the hell was that guy?

Sam’s spine unexpectedly began to tingle, chills went down his body. He noticed for the first time how quiet it had gotten in the woods. There was no sound, not the chirp of birds or the rustle of the wind.

Sam’s hand went to his waist band and he gripped his gun. Not for the first he wished that Dean was here.

He was too exposed where he was, standing in the middle of the clearing. Sam needed to get some sort of protection from whatever was coming, which he knew with a dead certainty that something was.

He slowly began making his way to a large tree, to have at his back, when a black shape darted by him. He whipped his gun up and around, not hearing the second person coming at him.

Sam was thrown off his feet as the body slammed into him. His head met the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.

Sam felt his body slide down, resting amid the fallen leaves and twigs. He was going to black out in a second, and there was nothing he could do about it.

His last thought before he was out for the count was a simple plea for his brother: _Dean._

* * *

 

“Calm down, Carol. It’s going to be okay. We’ll find your little girl.” Lori rubbed a comforting hand on Carol’s bare arm. The rest of the group stood uselessly around the weeping woman.

“Shane and I are going to start looking out there. She couldn’t have gotten far,” Rick said looking over the group. They all looked stricken; no one wanted to see the little girl hurt.

“Hey, Rick!” Rick turned toward the direction of Glenn’s voice. Glenn was making his way over to everyone followed closely by Dean and the other one. The odd one, not the tall one. Rick frowned, where was Daryl?

Rick opened his mouth to ask just that, but Glenn beat him to the punch.

“Daryl took off. I told him that Sophia was gone and he just booked it out of there. Sam went with him.”

Rick sighed. He knew that Sophia had latched herself on to the gruff man and he knew that Daryl had a soft spot concerning the girl. Rick was thankful that the other Winchester had gone with Daryl. Though, it might have been better if Dean had been the one to go. He seemed to understand Daryl better than most.

“Shane and I’ll head out to where I left Sophia─," Rick repeated for Dean and Glenn's benefit. 

“Wait,” Dean interrupted, “What happened? How did she get lost?”

Rick felt the guilt begin to rise again.

“It was my fault. We were being chased by some Walkers in the woods and I left her near a stream in order to draw them away. When I came back she was gone.” Rick felt a small hand grip his. He looked down and saw his son looking back up at him.

“Its okay, Dad, we’ll find her.” He fondly ruffled his son’s hair. He looked back up and Shane gave him a grim nod.

The two of them began to set out to enter the woods.

There was a crunch of gravel behind the two cops and then Dean and his friend were walking alongside Rick and Shane.

“Cas and I are going to help,” Dean said. His voice left no room for argument and Rick admitted that he was glad for the help. Besides didn’t Dean…hunt things for a living?

All four of the men stopped when they entered the cool, quiet woods. For a moment none of them seemed to know what to do next.

“The creek is over here,” Rick said finally, indicating the area with his hand. He set out in that direction, thinking that the others were following him.   

Rick glanced behind, fully expecting to see Shane, Dean and the other one, but was surprised when he just saw Shane. He halted and called to Dean and his friend, who were still standing where they had stopped.

“Hey! You guys coming?” He saw Dean shake his head.

“No, I thought we’d go that way,” He gestured in the opposite direction of the stream. “She might have gone a different way. I thought that we should spilt up. We would cover more ground that way.”

It made sense and Rick nodded. He waved his hand a little, giving his consent for Dean to continue, though he got the feeling that Dean wouldn’t have listened to Rick either way. That man followed only his own orders.

“C’mon, Shane,” he said and they began to follow the creek again.

* * *

 

“Okay, Cas. You can find this little girl, right?” Dean asked when the other two men had left. 

Castiel stared at Dean, his eyes unblinking. He nodded slowly.

“Yes. I believe I can. She should not be too difficult to find, but I fear that if we do not locate her soon she will be changed into one of those monsters that walk the earth.”

Dean rolled his eyes slightly. Cas was so dramatic. He then pulled out his 1911, checking the ammo in the magazine and then chambered a round. Dean jerked his head at Castiel.

“Lead the way.” 

Castiel led Dean farther and farther away from where they had started. He led with a steady and determined stride, never slowing or pausing. Dean kept pace with his friend, his eyes and ears watchful. He listened for anything that was out of the ordinary, which was difficult for him seeing as the Winchesters only ever ‘camped’ when they were hunting monsters and everything was out of the ordinary in those cases.

“Cas,” his voice soft, so that he won’t alert anyone─or anything─ who might be near. Castiel paused in his stride to look at Dean.

“Yes?”

Dean nodded toward the direction that they are walking.

“How much farther?”

“We are very close.”

Castiel started to walk again and Dean followed him.

Neither of them talked again until Castiel directed them out of the woods and into a field. In the middle of the green grass sat a small white church, surrounded by some gravestones.

“Wonder if those suckers are still resting in peace?” Dean said, pointing at the head stones with his gun. He chuckled a little. Castiel ignored him and made a beeline to the church. Dean sighed and set after Castiel, who was waiting at the steps of the church. 

Dean jogged up the steps to the double doors and stopped. He looked back to Castiel, still standing at the first step.

“This it?” Dean asked. “This is where that girl is?” 

Castiel gave his solemn nod. Dean raised his hand, ready to shove one of the doors open and shout for Sophia, but Castiel suddenly stood next to Dean and gripped his arm making him stop.

“Be careful. I believe that she is not alone.”

Dean carefully pried his hand out of Castiel’s iron grasp.

“It’ll be fine, Cas. I know what I’m doing.” Dean began to ease the door open, but then halted. He glanced at his silent friend. “Stay here, okay? Don’t move.”

Dean didn’t wait for Castiel to reply and pushed the door open the rest of the way. He entered the church quietly, his booted feet not making a sound in the darkened room.

 It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloomy room. When they did, he tightened his grip on his gun; there were three figures hunched by the altar. Dean could tell from the way they were standing that they were no longer one of the living.

For the moment they hadn’t noticed him standing by the doors, but Dean knew that their obliviousness wouldn’t last long.

“Little girl!” he whispered as loudly as he dared, looking around as he did so. “Sophia!” There was a scuffle from above his head and Dean whirled around to find the source of the noise. He looked up and saw that above him was a choir loft.

A small blonde head stuck up from the above the railing. Dean felt relief flood him. It was the girl. He lowered his gun, forgetting about the monsters behind him, a rookie mistake.

The little girl let out a squeal and Dean felt hands grasping at him.

“Shit,” he swore and elbowed whatever was behind him. It loosened its grip long enough for Dean to jump away from it and turn to face the oncoming monsters.

The other two of them were coming now, but their decaying bodies making it slow moving. The one that had latched onto Dean looked like she had been a blushing bride to be at one time. She was growling at him, her arms outstretched.

“Damn, women just won’t leave me alone, will they?” Dean muttered backing up a little. He grinned rakishly at the bride and squeezed the trigger on his gun. The bullet ripped through her head, forcing her to stumble back a few steps and then drop to the wooden floor. Her fellow Croats stumbled over her body, but kept coming.

Dean realized that using his gun might not have been the best idea. Weren’t these things attracted to noise? He packed his gun away, taking out his bowie knife; the slow moving monsters giving him enough time to make the switch.

When they were close enough, he ganked them with quick thrusts to their skulls.

Dean did a quick once over to make sure that there weren’t any more of the geeks hiding in the dark corners. When he was positive that it was just him, he went to the back of the church to find the stairs that led to the choir loft.

They were dirty and old, creaking with every step that he took, no matter how quiet he tried to be. Reaching the top, Dean carefully poked his head around the door to try and see the cowering girl.

“Little girl.” No answer. Maybe he should try using her name. “Sophia?” There was a yelp and something flew through the air, hitting him squarely on the forehead.

He stumbled back a few steps, clutching his stinging head.

“Damnit!” he hissed through the pain.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” a small voice cried. “I thought you were one of them!”

Dean felt a small hand pull at his jacket. Blinking through the tears that had sprung into his eyes, the girl had a hard throw; he looked down at the small face staring back at him. She looked nervously at him and seemed ready to flinch away at any sudden movement.

He raised his hand and she cowered from him. Did she really think that he would hit her? A similar reaction from Daryl flitted across his mind, but he ignored that for the moment. He had to deal with the situation at hand. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Dean said, “I just want to see if you’re okay.”

She brightened a little and allowed his hand to brush across her face, checking for cuts and bruises.

Sophia seemed fine, terrified yes, but unharmed.

“C’mon,” he said offering his hand. She hesitantly took his large one in her small one. “Let’s get you back to your mom.”

* * *

 

Sam slowly began to regain consciousness. He head ached horribly from where it had connected with the tree. A boot nudged his ribs and without meaning to, he let out a low groan.

“He’s awake.” The voice was gruff and Sam was sure that he had heard that it before somewhere, but couldn’t quite remember where. There were footsteps and the boot that had nudged him, left his side.

Sam could feel that his hands were tied together and from the roughness on his back, he knew that he was sitting with his back pressed to a tree. Sam slowly blinked open his eyes and took in his surroundings. There three men standing around him, all of them were packing and he could tell from the way they held themselves they knew how to use their weapons. For the moment they weren’t paying attention to him, giving him some time.

“Ya awake?” the voice was unexpected, but very much a relief.

“Daryl,” Sam said quietly and turned his head to the right where the other man was tied to another tree. “Are you okay?” Daryl had a large bruise one side of his forehead.

He snorted. “I’m tied to a tree. How do ya think I’m doin’?”

Sam ignored his sarcasm; Dean got like that too.

“What happened? I didn’t see them at all. Stupid, stupid,” Sam muttered the last part angrily at himself.

“When ya took off, I was gonna wait a bit for ya to cool off, didn’t hear the assholes come up behind me,” Daryl said casting a scornful look at the three men, still talking amongst themselves.

“They said somethin’ bout not wantin’ ta hurt me or some bullshit like tha’. I didn’ trust them for a second. Got one of them good before they conked me on the head.” He smiled grimly at the largest thug, who looked like his nose was broken.

As if they could feel Daryl’s eyes on them, the three men turned to face their prisoners. Their eyes rested on Daryl’s defiant face a moment before they turned their attention to Sam.

Sudden recognition lit up Sam’s face. Yeah, he knew these guys and unfortunately they knew him.

“Heya, Sam. How we doing?” the largest man asked, he was clearly the leader of the group.

Sam shrugged as much as the ropes would allow.

“I’m alive in the apocalypse, good enough for now, Locke.” Sam saw Daryl start and glance at Sam’s profile; Daryl was surprised that Sam knew them. Sam ignored him, focusing on the three men in front of him. Locke snorted and turned to his two companions.

“Didja here that, Royce?” he said looking to the lanky young man, who grinned back. Locke turned to the last man, who Sam realized he didn’t know.

“How bout you, Payne? Didja hear little Sammy?” Payne didn’t smile, but instead stared at Sam with an intense and violent gaze.

“Payne?" Daryl snorted, clearly not thinking much of the man's name. Everyone ignored him, still watching Sam; the bigger threat. 

Sam heard Daryl let out a huff at being ignored, but he focused on the matter at hand.

Locke leaned forward so that he was up close and intimidating.

“We’ve been looking for you. Since before this whole mess happened.”

Sam frowned, nervousness being to prickle on his scalp.

“What? Why?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Locke let out a loud laugh with Royce quickly following his idol’s example. Payne kept silent, still eyeing Sam like he was a piece of meat.

“Really, Winchester, you have no idea of why we might be a little upset with you?” Locke was incredulous. 

Sam tried to think of why three seriously pissed off hunters from before the end of the world might be upset with him. It didn’t take him long to stumble upon the answer.

“Dammit,” he muttered, shutting his eyes and leaning his head against the tree.

“Now ya remember don’t cha,” said Locke.

Sam opened his eyes again.

“Did you really believe that you can start the apocalypse and walk away without a scratch?” he grinned, nastily.

“Hey,” Daryl spoke up again. The hunters had all forgotten again that he was still sitting there, listening in on a conversation that probably didn’t make any sense to him.

“What are ya talking about? Sam caused all this?” he sounded unsure of what exactly was going on. Locke seemed delighted in enlightening him.

“Yeah, see Sam here was fooling around with some demon bitch and let the king of hell out of his cage.”

Sam cringed. That was basically what had happened, but he had been tricked and hadn’t known what he was doing. It wasn’t completely his fault.

Sam dared to glance at Daryl, trying to gauge his reaction to this bit of news. Daryl’s face was closed and emotionless; sorta like when Sam had first met him.

Payne was fidgeting where he stood. He was starting to look a little nervous.

“C’mon. Let’s get this done with. We don’t know when Dean is gonna realize that his little brother ain’t around.”

Royce snorted a little at his fellow hunter. 

“You afraid of him?” he asked with some contempt.

Payne turned on him within a blink of an eye.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re saying, boy!” he spat out clutching Royce’s jacket with both his hands, “Dean Winchester is the last person on Earth I want on my ass. And trust me; he will be if he gets wind of who killed his little brother.”

Sam swallowed. So they _were_ planning on killing him.

“Guys, please let me explain…” he trailed off as Payne let go of Royce’s jacket and turned to Sam, pulling a large knife as he did so.

Sam breathed in deeply, trying to prepare himself for his coming death. He could feel his hands shaking slightly on his lap, though he knows that the others couldn’t tell.

Payne moved so that his knife hovered inches from Sam’s face. 

“Sorry, Sam," he murmured and placed his razor sharp knife against Sam’s bobbing throat. “But it’s got to be done.”

A sudden gunshot echoed through the air. All three hunters sprang away from Sam, bringing their weapons up and around, ready for whoever made the shot.

“What the hell was that?” Locke bit out, nervous now.

Royce was skittering around in circles, trying to cover all the angles at once.

“Is it him?” he yelped, fear making his eyes wide, “Is it Dean?”

Payne motioned for him to be quiet and when Royce kept asking if it was the elder Winchester, Payne went up and slapped Royce across the face.

“Shut up!” he hissed, listening intently. All any of them could hear was the fading echo of the gunshot.

“Somebody's near; we need to get this done now," he said turning back to Sam, who was still sitting where they had left him, but he looked calm now. He even gave Payne a little smirk.

Payne growled and rushed toward Sam ready to peel the skin off his face, when a red hot pain laced through him. He thudded to the ground an arrow sticking from his back. Locke and Royce searched frantically around them trying to see where it had come from. When they didn’t see anyone, they took off running in the opposite direction from Sam and Payne.

Their footsteps faded away and the only sound was the weak moans coming from the still alive Payne.

“Shut up," Sam said as he worked himself out of the already loose ropes.

“What was that?” Payne groaned. “Where did it come from?”

Sam smiled grimly as the last few ropes fell away and he stood to his feet.

“You should have been paying more attention to him,” he said nodding as Daryl came into view, his trusty crossbow on his back once again.

Payne rolled onto his side so that he could see who it was that Sam was talking about. His eyes widen as he took in the grim man.

“You were…” he said then looked to where they had tied up Daryl. The ropes were cut.

Daryl crouched down so that he was level with the injured man.

“Next time ya take a prisoner, jackass, make sure ya take his knife.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually kinda happy with this chapter and I hope you guys all enjoy it!   
> Thanks for the kudos and comments from beanni77, evave2 (You seriously hate Shane, but don't worry; I've got plans for him), and BranchSuper.   
> Have a good weekend everyone!


	8. Kick His Ass (Part One)

**[Kick his ass]**

**Part one**

On the way back Sophia had latched herself onto Cas like a leech. 

When she had first seen the angel standing outside the small church she had clung even tighter to Dean’s hand, but after the first few minutes of walking in the woods, she had grown curious of Castiel and began to talk to him. Sophia was delighted when he didn’t say much, but listened with an interested intensity, giving her free reign of the conversation.

Dean chuckled quietly as he listened to the chattering girl skipping next to his friend.

“And then Carl didn’t give it back, so I had to tell my mom about it, but she said that I should just ask him nicely. But when I asked real nice Carl just laughed and kept my doll hidden in his jacket. I got mad at him, but he laughed at me again.” She paused for breath. “So then I went to get Mr. Dixon. He said he was busy and to have someone else deal with me, but I asked and asked so he finally came with me and told Carl to give me back my doll.” Sophia laughed a little. “Carl face went like this,” She demonstrated Carl’s terrified face. “and then he gave it back.” Castiel didn’t say anything, but looked enthralled by her stories.

Sophia clasped her hand to Castiel’s large one. Castiel looked down at the small hand wrapped around his. At first he didn’t seem to understand what the little thing was doing with his hand, but Castiel remembered that he had seem other humans do this before and it was a good thing so he allowed the little girl to hold his hand. She grinned up at him and he gave her a small smile in return. 

From the back, Dean grinned at the two of them. He hadn’t seen Castiel smile since the beginning of all this crap and it was good to see him smiling now.

All this childish chattering reminded Dean of Sam when they had been young. Dean remembered Sam coming home from school crying about some kid taking something from him, so then Dean would go with him the next day and beat the kid up. He would be suspended, but it was worth the look that Sam would give him, the one that just glowed with admiration and pride for his older brother.

" _And then, Dad, Dean shoved the older kid and told him to stop being a…a…what did you call him again, Dean?”_

_Dean coughed. The name he had used wasn’t the most polite._ _“Jerk.”_

_“Oh, yeah! So Dean was like,’stop be being a jerk and give it back before I make you give it back’. It was so cool, Dad!”_

* * *

 

Dean was embarrassed when Carol sobbingly thanked him for finding her little girl. He awkwardly patted her back as she buried her face into his chest. Luckily for Dean, she quickly forgot about him and turned to her daughter, clutching Sophia to her chest in a way that threatened to never let her go again. 

Dean glanced over the group, who were now all crowded around Carol and her daughter. They were all smiling and laughing now that Sophia was back.

“Nice work.”

Dean turned to the voice. It was Rick; Dean could see Shane behind him. Dean shrugged at the small praise.

“Just doing my job.”

Rick smiled and gave Dean a thump on the back. He turned away from Dean, but then stopped and slowly turned back.

“Hey, did you happen to see Daryl or your brother when you were out there?”

Dean stiffened and franticly scoured the area again. No Sam hiding among any of the group members.

He didn’t answer Rick; instead he took off running toward the woods again.

“Sam!” Dean called as he ran. “Sammy!” He heard voices shouting out behind him, but he ignored them. This was his little brother that he had lost. Again.

Dean felt a hand grab at his jacket, wrenching him to a halt.

“Dean…stop,” Rick wheezed out, his hand wrapped around the green cloth.

Dean roughly jerked out of Rick’s grasp.

“Let me go. It’s my brother that’s out there. I let him out of my sight and now he’s gone!” Dean glared at Rick, who was stilling panting a bit from chasing after Dean. “Do you know all the shit that’s coming toward him? Do know what monsters are out there?” Dean was breathing heavily and his green eyes were crackling with energy.

Rick took a few steps away from the seething man. He tried to calm the older Winchester. “Dean, we have a guy missing too. We need to think about this and find them without loosing more people.”

Dean strode forward and shoved Rick away from him.

“Then stay out of my way,” he snarled.

“Hey!” Shane snapped coming into Dean’s view.

Dean looked behind Rick, not realizing that he had an audience. All of the group expect for Carol, Sophia and Dale and followed Rick when he took off running to stop Dean from doing anything rash.

“You listen to Rick. He’s the leader of this group!” Shane continued, shoving a finger in Dean’s general direction.

Dean took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is that right, Rambo?” Dean’s voice had a hard edge to it and the threat was clear from the simple question. The air around the group suddenly seemed to go cold.

The group shifted so that Castiel and Dean stood on one side and the others stood across from them.

Rick tried to calm things down again before things got wildly out of control; he didn’t like the looks that Shane and Dean were giving each other.

“Dean, I understand that you need to find your brother. I get that. But Daryl is gone too and we need to be smart about this so that no one else gets lost.”

Dean snorted.

Rick felt a prick of anger. “I’m the leader of this group, so you best start listening to me,” he finally snapped. Rick could feel the surprise coming from Glenn, Andrea and the others. It was unusual for him to loose control. Dean, however, didn’t look impressed. Apparently he had faced things much worse than Rick’s anger.

“I joined your group of my own free will and I can leave when I want. Not you or anyone else is gonna be able to stop me.” Silence followed Dean’s bold words. He turned on his heel, leaving the group in stunned silence.

Rick felt the anger drain out of him. Dean just wanted to take care of his family and no one was going to stop him from finding Sam. He sighed and rubbed a hand through his curly hair. If anyone could relate to Dean it was him. He hadn’t let anything stop him from trying to find Lori and Carl, who was he to say that Dean couldn’t go off to find Sam? Besides Dean was probably the last person in the group that he should be worried about. Dean Winchester was a fighter and more than capable of taking care of himself.

Shane muttered something inaudible and made to take off after Dean and Castiel’s retreating forms, but Rick held out an arm to stop him. He rested his palm on Shane’s chest.

“Leave him.”

“But he just questioned your authority! You can’t let that fly! If you do then no one in this group is going to look at you as a leader,” Shane protested.

Rick shook his head. “Dean needs to protect his brother. Sam is all the family he has left. Besides Dean was never under my authority.” Rick sighed, realizing how true those words were. Dean was the type of man that ran his own life, making all the calls and dealing with the consequences.

 He could feel Shane itching to get Dean into a headlock and force him into submission, he was glad for his friend’s loyalty, but he knew that it was futile as far as Dean was concerned.

“C’mon.” Rick motioned the rest of the group towards him, “It’s going to be getting dark soon. We’ll send out search parties tomorrow.”

In a dejected shuffle the survivors made their way back to the highway. 

* * *

 

Castiel trudged after Dean. He would follow that man to the end of the world; in fact he already had,seeing as many people believed that the end of the world was now upon them.

He could see from Dean’s tense shoulders that he was scared for Sam, but trying to control his emotions so that he could concentrate on actually finding his little brother.

Castiel sighed a little. He was not able to pin down Sam’s location, his ‘mojo’ as Dean called it, was almost gone and he was pleasantly surprised that he had been able to trace the little girl. He was still able to do simple things, like fly, but most of his other powers were diminished since he fell.

“C’mon, Cas, keep up,” Dean snapped from ahead.

Castiel did not take offense, he knew that Dean was not upset with him, but with Rick who had tried to stop him from finding Sam. He quickened his pace, but still trailed behind Dean. He could hear Dean muttering to himself. His words were fast and angry.

“Your brother is fine,” Castiel suddenly spoke.

Dean halted his furious pace and spun to face Castiel.

“How do you know?” he demanded jabbing a finger onto Castiel’s chest. The words were sharp, but Castiel could hear the underlining tone of hope in them.

“I would know if your brother was dead. Besides, I do not believe that he would stay dead for long.” 

Dean frowned a little at that, but his expression began to brighten a little at Castiel's words.

Castiel looked down at the finger still poking into his chest. What did it mean? Was it some sort of sign of affection? No, that would not make sense. Dean was upset, he would not show affection when he was angry…Not that he would show affection most of the time.

Dean seemed to notice that his finger was confusing Castiel and removed it swiftly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing a hand through his short hair. “We should keep moving. Even if Sam's not dead, I need to find him and then I’m going to kick his ass for getting himself lost.” 

* * *

 

“What are you going to do to me?” Payne asked, his voice was steady, but Daryl could hear the fear in it.

Sam smiled thinly and Daryl felt a shiver ripple down his spine. For the first time, he saw why the men back there might have wanted to kill the younger Winchester. Sam looked downright terrifying, his lips pulled back into an almost snarl and his eyes looking black in the darkening light. Those men had said that Sam had started all this. Was that true? How could one man ruin the world so completely?

Daryl cast a sidelong glance at Sam, but quickly looked away.

“Payne, you tried to kill me and were probably going to kill Daryl too. What do you think we’re going to do?”

Payne swallowed, his throat bobbing.

Daryl grunted and pulled the man to his feet. Payne hissed as his injury was jostled, but Daryl ignored the man’s pain and shoved him forward. 

“Do you know the way out?” Sam asked Daryl.

He gave a short nod, not looking directly at Sam.

“Follow me,” Daryl said, quietly. Keeping Payne in front of him, Daryl began to lead the way back to where they had left the others at the highway. 

* * *

 

They walked without speaking. The silence was thick and heavy; Daryl decided that for once in his life he wished that there was talking. He could feel Sam’s eyes on his back, probably wondering what Daryl made of the news that Sam Winchester started the apocalypse. Daryl rolled his shoulders, uncomfortably, and tightened his grip on his bow. The sooner they got back to the others, the better. 

For the first time Daryl noticed the long shadows and the fact that the sun was casting fierce red colors on the trees and leaves around them. They would have to quicken their pace if they wanted to get back before the sun set completely. There was no way in hell that Daryl was going to get caught out in the woods at night with Walkers roaming around.

Daryl quickened his pace, shoving Payne, who was walking ahead of him, more often. He knew that Sam was keeping pace behind him without evening having to look.

Daryl was starting to feel uneasy. He didn’t know why the forest was making him nervous. The woods had always been his true home. Daryl never had felt uncomfortable in the woods, not even when he knew that more than just animals now lurked in there. He glanced around the now dark woods, his eyes trying to make out anything that might be prowling behind trees. He couldn’t see anything, but the uneasiness was still sitting in the pit of his stomach.

It seemed like only minutes later that the sun began to sink into the horizon, but the thick trees didn’t let much of the setting sun through, making it harder for them to see where they were going. Not that the dark could stop Daryl from finding their way back.

Daryl stopped walking his neck tingling. He jerked Payne to a halt. Payne gave a small groan as his wound was jostled. 

“What’s the matter?” Sam asked lowly next to him.

Daryl looked at Sam and shivered again. Sam’s eyes were dark and he couldn’t see the color in them. He tried to ignore Sam for the moment, instead looking around the darkening woods.

“I don’ know,” he replied. “Somethin’ just don’t feel right.”

Sam followed Daryl’s example and scoured the nearby trees, trying to see anything.

“We should just get back to everyone else,” Sam said remembering that he had a brother that was probably pissed and searching the woods for him right now. “Dean’s gonna kill me…” Sam muttered. His brother, was probably making himself sick with worry.

Daryl felt his nervousness begin to well up, something wasn’t right here. It wasn’t just his instincts as a hunter; something else was telling him to−"RUN!" 

Daryl pushed Payne ahead causing him to stumble, screaming at both of them to run.

Though, they didn’t know why Daryl wanted them to run, their hunter reflexives took over and both Sam and Payne took off, following Daryl has he led the way.

There was a shriek and a rustle of something chasing after them. The three men didn’t speak. They ran with a steady determination, not looking behind and only focusing on what was in front of them.

The noises suddenly stopped and the three hunters slowed their furious pace to a jog.

“What was it?” Sam asked, barely out of breath.

Payne shook his head to indicate that he had no idea. His face was pale from blood lose and the run they had just done.

“I don’t know,” Daryl said his bow up and ready. He was trying to see through the dark forest as they ran, but with no luck. “It’s still out there,” Daryl suddenly said with a sudden certainty. “We need ta keep moving! We’re almost back to the highway. Move yer ass!”

Daryl took off again, knowing that Sam was following with Payne in tow.

There was a loud crack of wood snapping and Daryl felt a heavy hand claw him across the chest. He went flying and slammed into a tree, his head taking the brunt of the impact.

Woozily he heard Sam shout his name, but he ignored it and focused on trying to clear his ringing head.

Dimly, he heard himself snap at Sam to keep moving. 

Daryl pulled himself up, slinging his crossbow over his shoulders, so that it rested on his back. He took a few staggering steps forward, but his head was throbbing from the blow to the tree and there was a burning across his chest that he was trying to ignore.

He stumbled forward a little more and was about to fall on his face, when an arm suddenly was underneath him and he was being helped along by Sam, who hadn’t gone on like Daryl had told him.

For once, Daryl was glad that no one listened to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took me freaking forever to post. I have excuses, but no one wants to hear them.   
> The next chapter shouldn't be so long in coming (I promise).   
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from: evave2, BranchSuper, and zoe.


	9. Kick His Ass (Part Two)

**[Kick his ass]**

**Part two**

Glenn was on sentry duty, while the rest of the group was getting a fire started and finding places for everyone to sleep.

He was perched onto of Dale’s RV, sitting on the lawn chair with binoculars resting against his chest and a rifle balanced against the chair. The sun had almost reached the bottom of the horizon and the shadows were long.

Glenn was trying to keep his thoughts away from Daryl and Sam, who were somewhere in the darkening forest. He also tried not to think of Dean and Castiel. For all he knew, those four were dead. 

Glenn sighed and pushed his ball cap up so that his forehead was exposed. He was just starting to get to know those guys and had even begun to like them. 

There was the murmur of voices below him and Glenn glanced down, seeing the top of Lori and Rick’s heads. They were talking quietly by the door of the RV. They seemed to think that Glenn wouldn’t be able to hear them.

 Glenn turned away, trying not to listen to their conversation, but hearing most of it anyway.

“Rick, what were you going to do? Forcibly make Dean stay with us? You saw the way he was acting. He wasn’t going to listen to anyone. Not you or Shane was going to stop him from finding his brother.” Glenn heard Lori sigh a little. “Truthfully, I’m glad that he’s gone. Maybe he did save us from that…thing…demon the other day, but I remember seeing the news about him and his brother. They killed people, Rick! I didn’t want to let Carl out of my sight when you said they could stay with us.” Rick stopped her there.

“If it didn’t feel right to you, you should have said something. I could have done something to make it more comfortable. Dean seemed like he was a decent man.” Rick heaved a heavy sigh. “I also think that if Dean had decided to stay with us he would have been invaluable. He's a survivor.” There was another pause and Glenn couldn’t help but lean closer. They wouldn't be able to see him because it was now almost completely dark. The only light source was the small fire where some of the group were huddled around, warming themselves.

“He actually kind of reminds me of Daryl.” Lori let out an incredulous laugh at Rick's words.

“Let me explain.” Rick said, laughing a little too. “Dean is like the unbroken version of Daryl. Daryl is a fighter that won’t back down from a battle, but something happened to him that broke him." Rick paused and then said, "I know abuse when I see it.” There was a small gasp from Lori, and even Glenn was horrified. He didn’t know that. Maybe he shouldn’t have been listening to this conversation after all. He leaned back in his chair, swallowing.

Rick seemed to regret his words. “Don’t tell anyone, Lori. I mean it. This shouldn’t be something that gets spread around. Understand?” Rick’s voice was stern and commanding and Glenn found himself nodding along, promising his silence too. 

It was quiet below and Glenn strained his ears to hear if they had gone.

“Look, Lori, I don’t know what we’ll do if─,” Rick was cut off by a high pitched wailing.

Glenn’s eyes snapped up to the edge of the woods. It was too dark for him to make anything out, but he thought that he could see three distorted shapes coming from the forest. He snatched the rifle from where it was sitting next to him.

“We got something coming," Glenn called out, his voice breaking a little. He then pressed the binoculars to his eyes and strained to see who or what they were.

“Glenn, can you see who they are? Is it Dean?” He heard Rick ask from below.

“Uh…” Glenn said, not quite making out the shapes.

“Now, Glenn! We need to know now!” Rick snapped.

“Its….it’s Daryl! And Sam, I think. They have someone else too!”

Glenn took the binoculars away to grin triumphantly at Rick, but Rick was already gone, racing to the approaching figures.

* * *

 

Sam was staggering a little under the combined weight of both Daryl and Payne, even though Daryl didn’t seem to weigh more than a feather. He could hear Daryl’s short gasps for breath next to him and Payne didn’t seem to be doing too well either.

“C’mon! We’re almost there. I can see a fire,” Sam said encouraging them as much as himself.

Out of the darkness, Sam could see a dark figure running toward them.

 _Dean._ Sam thought with relief. Dean would know what the hell was after them and take care of it with his usual ‘come and get me, you son of a bitch’ attitude.

“Dean," he called out, relief evident in his voice. “We got something after us. I don’t know what it is, but we got to get the rest of the group safe before we can track it down.” Sam stumbled to a stop in the shallow ditch that stood before the road, pausing to catch his breath.

Sam cast a quick glance behind them, trying to see if the monster was coming. He didn’t see anything, but he knew that it was coming, just bidding its time.

Turning back around he finally saw who had been running toward them. It wasn’t Dean, but Rick who had come running.  Sam struggled to keep his disappointment contained.

“What happened?” Rick demanded as he skidded to a halt before them. “Who is that?” he said nodded at Payne, who hung off Sam’s arm.

Sam brushed his questions aside. “Help me get them back to camp. We need all of your people to get into cars, anything that will offer them some protection.” _It’s the best protection we can do against whatever is after us,_ Sam thought grimly.

Rick frowned.

“Do we got walkers coming?”

“Something else!” Sam snapped, tired of Rick’s persistence in having to know everything immediately. “Do as I say and help me!”

Rick hopped down into the ditch and looped his arm underneath Daryl’s other side and the two of them half carried both men back to the glowing fire.

Sam and Rick gently put Daryl down next to the fire. He gave a small groan as his back touched the ground.

“Sorry, Daryl,” Sam muttered. He also put Payne down, who started to crawl away from him as soon as his belly touched the ground. Sam ignored him and turned his attention back to the surrounding woods, but didn’t see anything. Nevertheless, he spun back around to face the group, who were all on their feet, hovering around the fire.

“You need to get into cars, right now. I don’t know what was after us, but its coming.” No one moved. Sam swore under his breath. Did they not take him seriously or something?

“Move!” he shouted. They flinched and did what he commanded. Within in minutes most of the group had found a place to hide in a nearby car or in the RV.

Rick stayed standing by the fire, Daryl lying at his feet. Sam glanced at Payne who was slumped against the nearest car, his hand pressed to his wounded shoulder.

Sam strode up to Rick, his face calm and showing almost no emotion, but on the inside he was boiling.

“Where's Dean?” his voice was soft, but Rick could hear the underlining threat. 

“He left with your other friend. Said he had to find you,” Rick said, trying not to feel guilty. After all if wasn’t his fault that Dean had stormed off.

“Shit.” Sam roughly ran a hand through his hair, brushing it off his sweaty forehead.

“What was chasing you?” Rick asked again.

Sam shot him a withering look.

“I told you already, I don’t know. I didn’t see it.”

There was a cough from their feet. Both men looked down at the forgotten Daryl. Now that there was some light shinning on him, they could see the full extent of his wounds. His head hadn’t been the only injury.

Rick dropped to his knees.

“Daryl…Your chest…” He gently placed both hands on Daryl’s clawed and bloody chest. Daryl snarled at the touch.

“Stings like a motherfu…” he mumbled. Daryl looked up at Sam, who was still standing above him. His blue eyes sharpened as he spat out, “Wendigo.”

“What did you say?” Sam said, not believing what he had just heard. He dropped to his knees, leaning down to Daryl.

“Wendigo. That’s the thin’ in the forest.” Daryl gingerly started to sit up. Rick made protesting motions with his hands and attempted to push Daryl back down.

Daryl sent Rick a glare that stopped him cold. He pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his crossbow around. It rested in his lap, blood from his chest wound slowly dripping onto it. 

“What the hell?” Sam sputtered. “How do you know? Do you even know what a wendigo is?” Sam demanded.

Daryl grimaced as he shifted his weight, starting to put an arrow onto his bow. He shook his head slowly.

“I dunno─,” Daryl suddenly sat up straighter ignoring the burning pain in his chest. “It’s coming.”

“What’s coming?” Sam snapped. It wasn’t possible that someone who wasn’t a hunter knew what a wendigo was.

Daryl glared at him. “The wendigo, moron! It’s comin.”

There was another screech from the dark and Sam leapt to his feet, his hand going to his waist band. He pulled his gun out and grimaced; if it really was a wendigo than his gun was useless. Spinning in a circle he looked for the black impala that held the rest of their weapons.

Spotting the car he began to run to it, when something hit him from behind. He went flying and slammed into a nearby car’s windshield. It cracked under his weight as he rolled onto his back and tried to slide off the car.

With no warning, there was a dark blur and then a searing pain laced across his shoulder and chest.

He was faster this time and he managed to get off the car’s hood before the wendigo came back.

Sam slammed heavily onto his hands and knees, hissing as the stones bit into his skin. He looked up, focusing on the fire, where Daryl and Rick still crouched.

Another blur and this time Sam’s face burned. He could feel the hot blood dripping into his eyes.

“Sam! Where is it? What’s going on?” Rick called out to where he could see the younger Winchester slumped against a car. Sam angrily waved at him to shut up.

Sam tried to think. He needed to get to the trunk of the impala so he could get the flares and roast the mother.

 _Fire._ It suddenly clicked.

“I’m such an idiot,” Sam muttered, getting to his feet as quick as he could and then making a dash for the curling flames of the camp's small fire.

The monster, however, had other plans and slammed into him again, stopping him from reaching the fire.

Sam hissed as he hit the gravel. He lay still, hoping that the monster would give him a moment’s respite.

“Daryl,” Sam said quietly. “You need to kill it.”

Even from where he lay, Sam could see the incredulous look on Daryl’s face.

“How the hell do I kill it?” 

“Fire. You’ve got to burn in.” They could hear the sound of gravel being kicked up and they both knew it was on its way back. Daryl steadied himself and slowly got to knees. He took off the arrow that he had put on his bow moments before and looked at Rick.

“Gasoline?” he asked.

Rick looked frantically around for the can of gas that they had collected earlier that day. 

It was pure luck that the can was sitting no more than three feet from the fire, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best place for it. Rick ran to it and quickly dragged it back, settling it next to Daryl.

There was grunt of pain and Sam went flying again, a new gash across his back. Daryl quickened his motions, ignoring his own stinging wounds. He dunked the arrow into the can and pulled it out, dripping.

“Sam,” he called softly at the large lump that lay on the road. “Give the word.”

Sam’s head moved and he locked eyes with Daryl. There was complete trust in Sam’s eyes as he slowly nodded at Daryl. Daryl didn’t understand it, but pushed it aside concentrating on the matter at hand. 

“I’m going to get to my feet on three. You get it when it comes to finish me. It’s done playing with its food.”

Daryl nodded grimly. He set his arrow into the flame. It lit up instantly.

“One…” With an effort Daryl managed to put the arrow back onto the bow without burning himself too badly.

“Two…” The string was pulled back and Daryl placed the butt of the crossbow against his shoulder.

“Three!” Sam staggered to his feet and tried to make a run back to the ditch.

Daryl’s breath slowed and his sharp eyes waited for the black blur that was sure to come.

Daryl saw it, racing to Sam, It’s long arms extended. He set his sights a little ahead of the monster and let his arrow fly.

The Wendigo ran right into the arrow. It howled as the arrow lodged itself into its chest. It stuttered to a halt, stopping the chase after its food and tried to get the burning yellow flame away.

In a surge of adrenaline, Daryl bounced to his feet, pulling a burning log out of the fire as he did so.

He ignored the heat and sting of the flames and with the burning log held high, Daryl raced over the monster and took a swing at it. The monster had already been burning and crumbling into ashes from the arrow, but when Daryl hit it with a powerful and heavy swing it completely shattered with a long piercing scream.

Daryl stood, panting next to the pile of burned bone and flesh. He nudged it with his toe, shifting the stack. Looking down at his hand, Daryl dropped the blazing log before it burned his hand anymore. It landed near his feet with a burst of sparks.

“Daryl?” He looked up and saw Sam staggering to his feet and walking unsteadily towards him. Blood was seeping through several gashes along his face, chest, and back; Daryl was impressed that Sam didn’t let the pain show in his face, forgetting that he probably looked worse than Sam did.

Sam came to a stop next to him, both of them looking down at the mound of ashes.

“Good job,” Sam said acting as if it was a everyday experience to kill a wendigo. They shared a look, and Daryl saw that look of confidence and trust from Sam again. He shifted his gaze down to his feet, uncomfortable. No one had ever given him a look like that before. He had only ever seen Sam shoot his brother a gaze full of trust and confidence, and though he was uncomfortable Daryl felt a prick of honor and pride that Sam had included him in the small circle people that he seemed to trust.

Rick came to stand next to them. He followed their example and stared at the pile of ash that lay at their feet.

He glanced at Sam, whose face was still dripping hot blood.

“Can everyone come out now?” he asked, deferring to Sam's judgement. Sam gave Rick a nod.

“It’s dead.”

Rick turned on his heel calling out as he did so, “Y’all can come out now.”

One by one heads popped out of cars and hiding spots. Soon the entire group stood in a circle around the mound of ash, most of them not making a sound, but all of them looked stricken.

Sam tried to cut them some slack; it was their first real monster encounter, but he really wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Where the hell is Dean?” Sam asked quietly. He wanted a complete answer this time, not some half truth.

Shane stepped forward and Sam felt his hands tighten into fists.

“Your brother took off hours ago. Said he was goin’ to find you.”

Sam groaned silently and rubbed his face before he remembered the cuts that were dripping blood. He hissed.

There was a wet cough and the group’s attention focused on Daryl, who trying not to act like his chest was in ribbons and that he was in pain, but failing. Sam grabbed Daryl’s forearm and started guiding him back to the fire.

“Someone get into the impala and grab my backpack. It’s sitting on the backseat.”

He eased Daryl down near the fire, even as Daryl made sounds of protest.     

The backpack was handed to him and he unzipped it. He pulled out bandages and needle and thread.

He also took out a full bottle of Jack Daniels. Slowly he began to lift Daryl’s shirt. Daryl jerked away from Sam.

“Git away,” he said weakly, “Don’ touch me.”

Sam held his hands up and sat back on his heels.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He held up the bottle of Jack. “I need to sew up your gashes and in order to do that I need your shirt off.”

Daryl seemed to consider Sam’s words and after a long minute he began to pull his shirt off.

San waited until Daryl was done and then carefully lifted the bottle of whiskey over Daryl’s chest.  

“This is going to sting a little,” he muttered, unscrewing the bottle of Jack and pouring some over Daryl’s chest. Daryl clenched his teeth, but didn’t make a sound.

Sam grunted, impressed. “Hold still. I’m gonna to sew these gashes up.” He carefully threaded the needle and then cautiously began to ease it through Daryl’s skin.

As he worked, Sam could feel his own injuries smarting, but knew that Daryl needed to be taken care of first. He had lost quite a bit of blood from the mad dash to the highway.

Daryl’s eyes were closed and the only sign that he could feel Sam’s probing fingers and sharp needle was his jumping jaw.

“Almost done,” Sam said, quietly. He was conscious of the inquiring eyes from the group. Most of them had stayed put around the fire, with the exception of Carol, Sophia, Lori and Carl. Those four had gone into the RV. The mothers probably didn’t want their children to watch Sam work, clinging to the illusion that their kids were still innocent.

Sam tied the thread and then cut it with his knife.

“You’re done,” he told Daryl, but Daryl wasn’t really listening. His head lolled to the side and his mouth was open slightly.

“Let’s get him into the RV," he told Rick.

Rick gave a nod and the two of them lifted Daryl up.

As Sam passed Payne leaning against a car, he called to T-Dog, “Take this guy and make sure that he’s locked up somewhere and watched. We don’t want him getting away.” Sam didn’t wait to see if T-Dog listened to his command. He and Rick continued past the group members, making their way to the RV.

Daryl didn’t weigh much, which made it easy going to maneuver him on to the open floor of the RV.

They made sure he had a pillow beneath his head and a blanket covering his thin chest.

Daryl made a soft snuffling sound and curled his arms up to his chest.

Sam and Rick waited a moment to see if he would wake up, but he remained sleeping.

They stepped back out and stood at the door of the RV.

“Tomorrow we’re finding Dean and Cas,” Sam growled, angry again now that Daryl had been taken care of. He turned on his heel, leaving Rick standing alone.

* * *

 

“Dean. You must rest.” No reply.

“Dean. Stop,” Casteil wearily said, trudging behind Dean. “The sun has set and you can not track Sam in the dark.”

“Watch me.”

Castiel sighed and tiredly rubbed his face. Dean stopped suddenly causing Castiel to almost run into him.

He turned so that he was facing his friend. “I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m being an ass.” He sighed and raked a hand through his short hair. “You know I’m not upset with you. I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Sam. He’s all…” Dean paused, his voice sounding thick. “He’s all I’ve got left.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean gave him a halfhearted grin, “Him and you, that is.”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“It is alright, Dean. I know how much your brother means to you. We will find him, but I strongly suggest we find somewhere to rest and spend the night. It will be better for Sam if we are well rested and alert.” Dean nodded, knowing that Castiel was right, even if his heart was screaming at him to keep moving.

* * *

 

The growling wouldn’t stop. It didn’t matter how many times Dean shot the damn thing. The monster at his feet kept snapping its jaws open and shut, growling with blood and drool dripping from its mouth.

“Shut up!” Bang.

“Shut _up!_ ” Bang. Bang.

 _Dean._ Dean whirled around his gun coming up. There was nothing behind him, only darkness. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

_Dean, wake up. Something’s wrong._

It was at that moment that Dean recognized the gravely voice.

“Cas?” His voice seemed to echo oddly.

 _Dean!_ Castiel’s voice had grown urgent. _Wake up!_

Dean wrenched open his eyes open, sitting up with a snap.

Castiel was crouched next to him, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“What is it?” Dean asked thickly, having the good sense to whisper. His green eyes scanned the surrounding are around their small camp. He caught sight of three staggering figures not far from where he and Castiel had been sleeping.

He gripped Castiel’s arm and gave a nod in the direction of the croats. “Is that it?” he asked lowly.

Castiel shook his head, slowly lifting a hand to the right of where they sat. Dean followed the motion, seeing four more croats.

“Damnit,” he muttered. He couldn’t take them all on at once. Not with just his gun and knife. His gun was too loud and his knife too small.

“Cas,” he said slowly beginning to get to his feet. “We’ve got to go.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand how it was even possible that the great Dean Winchester was running from a fight.

“There’s too many of them. I don’t have the proper weapons and not enough back up,” Dean explained. Thinking back, he had probably made a stupid and rash decision of running off into the woods instead of waiting like Rick wanted him to.

Castiel seemed to understand and he too began to straighten.

Dean pulled out his knife and held it ready.

“Now?” Castiel asked.

Dean jerked his head to the open woods behind them.

“Now we get out of here, but slow and steady,” Dean said as he began to back up, still keeping his eyes on the croats. They hadn’t seen or heard Dean and Castiel yet and Dean wanted to keep it that way.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice alerted him and he threw a glance over his shoulder.

Four more stumbling croats approached from their back, almost completely surrounding them.

“Where the hell are these things coming from?” Dean hissed. 

One of the croats lifted its head and a gave a low growl.

“Damn,” Dean muttered, his steps quickening.

“What?” Castiel asked, but was mostly ignored by Dean as the same croat began to lurched toward them.

“Damn, damn.” Dean matched the monster’s pace and ran toward the four monsters that blocked their escape. Four he could take, but not all eleven of them.

He could hear Castiel running next to him and desperately hoped that Castiel had that shiny metal sword of his stuffed up his sleeve.

One of the croats reached out, its arms grasping at Dean’s jacket, but he disposed of it with a quick stab. Another was on him almost before he managed to rip out his knife from the previous monster’s head. Blood and gunk sprayed out from Dean’s knife. Dean felt it hit his face and chest, but ignored it as he slashed the next croat’s face.

It slowed the thing enough for Dean to check on Castiel and see how far the other croats were.

Castiel was impressively holding his own with his shiny metal sword, but the other seven monsters were far too close for Dean’s liking.

With a grunt, Dean shoved his knife into his monster’s eye socket. More blood squirted out, hitting him in the face and almost blinding him for a moment. He blinked the blood from his eyes and saw the croat’s arms waving wildly.

Dean wrenched his knife out from the things face. It went down and this time Dean knew that he would stay dead.

“Cas?” Dean asked, his voice a little strained. He turned to face his friend, who had been fighting the other two monsters.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, stood over the two monsters his sword held loosely in his hand. The blood dripped down the blade, making a puddle in the dirt. He eyes held a terrifying glint and he almost seemed like he didn’t see Dean.

“Cas,” Dean said more firmly. Castiel blinked and he was himself again.

“Now we run,” Dean said his voice laughing with a grim humor. 

Their mad dash through the trees could have ended badly, with one or both of them running into a tree or tripping over fallen branches, but they didn’t. Both Dean and Castiel safely left the croats behind in the night.

They saw a glowing yellow light and almost as one they changed their course so that they would end up at the light source.

As they ran, Dean tried not to think of all the stories he had read that told of lights in the dark that led men to their deaths. But even his luck couldn’t be that bad.

Castiel and Dean skidded to a halt when they reached the light. Both were breathing heavily, but would keep running if they had to.

There were two people huddling together around a small fire, but they sprang to their feet when Dean and Castiel came into view. Dean could see the dead body of a croat at the edge of the light, but he ignored that and kept his eyes on the older man, who was brandishing a shotgun.

“Stay back!” the man warned. His white hair glowed in the fire light. The girl stayed behind the older man, but Dean could see her peeking from around his shoulder.

Dean slowly shoved his knife into its sheath, wincing because he knew that it wasn't clean and the blood and muck was now going to make his knife stick. He held up his hands, showing that he was unarmed. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Castie had put his weapon away too.

“Hey, hey,” Dean said, calmly, “We don’t to hurt you or your daughter.” He made the guess and saw it confirmed as the old man’s grip tightened on his gun. “We just needed to get away from some croats.” He glanced over his shoulder making sure that the monsters hadn’t caught up. Hopefully, they had lost Castiel and Dean’s trail.

“Speaking of…” Dean said, slowly walking to the fire. He began to kick dirt on it and the flames began to sputter.

“They’ll see the light,” he explained over the man and woman’s protests. When the light had completely gone out, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust and when they could see again, Dean stuck out his hand to both the man and woman.

“The names Dean and that’s Cas.”

Hesitantly, the man put his gun down and grasped Dean’s hand.

“I’m Hershel and this is my daughter Maggie,” he replied.

* * *

 

 Dean learned that Hershel used to own a farm not far from where they were camped out. The family of seven had been alive and well right up until the moment the croats that Hershel had been keeping in his barn escaped and killed most of the family. Maggie and Hershel had managed to fight their way out, but their farm was overrun and their family was dead. It had only been a day since the croats escaping, but Hershel told Dean that he wasn’t sure if Maggie and him would survive out on their own.

“I was with group of good people. I left them back at the highway this afternoon to go looking for my brother,” Dean trailed off, remembering his original objective. He frowned.

“And you found him, right?” Maggie asked, nodding at Castiel, who sat next to Dean. “Would you be able to bring us all back to your people?” she said hopefully.

Dean shifted his position uncomfortably. 

“Cas isn’t my brother. Sam’s still out here somewhere.” He paused listening to the night sounds of crickets and the occasional flutter of wings. “We also lost another man. Daryl. He was with Sam before they both disappeared.”

Maggie’s face fell. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“We understand if you can’t take us with you,: she said softly. Hershel put a hand on her shoulder. He looked at Dean, nodding his agreement.

“Family comes first,” he added.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, picturing first his father and then Sam. His father glared at Dean, _Dean Michael Winchester it is your responsibility as a hunter and as a Winchester to protect these people. Get off your ass and do your job!_

Then came Sam’s exasperated look, _C’mon, Dean, you know I can take care of myself. Do what you have to and then come find me. I’ll still be there when you come._

“Damnit," he muttered, his eyes flying back open. “No,” he said louder, making both Maggie and Hershel look back at him, hope lighting their eyes. “I’ll take you back to our camp. Then I’m not resting till Sam is found.”

* * *

 

Dean told them that he would keep watch for most of the night and when Hershel protested, Dean told him that he could sleep when he was dead. But even that statement wasn’t quite true. Not with the dead walking like they were, Dean mused to himself.

His back dug into the tree he was leaning against and he glanced at the tree branches above his head that swayed in the light breeze.

Without meaning to, his thoughts kept going to Sam. He could imagine all the gruesome and terrible things that could have happen to his little brother and frankly with all those images racing through his mind, Dean knew that he probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he tried.

He began to wonder if demons had managed to get their filthy hands on his little brother. The more he tried not to think about it, the more it haunted his thoughts.

A few hours before the sun would start to peek at the edges of the trees, Castiel came to sit next to Dean. They were silent, sitting side by side. Then Dean spoke quietly, “Were you asleep?”

Castiel shook his head. “I slept a little, but I am not used to being almost completely human.”

Dean turned his head to look at his friend. He frowned.

Castiel sighed, he had hoped that he wouldn’t have had to tell Dean about his powers slowly trickling away, but he knew that it was important that Dean knew.

“I have been loosing my powers, Dean. They have been leaving this body of mine ever since I was cut off from heaven. Zachariah made sure of it when he held me captive.”

Dean snorted. “Ah, Zach my old friend…the bastard.”

Castiel smiled a little. 

“I dislike him as well.”

Dean chuckled. He turned somber and shifted his position so that he could see his friend better.

“Are you able to use any of your powers or are they all gone?”

“I am not able to do much,” Castiel said after a moments thought. “I was able to track the little girl earlier, but even now I cannot sense anyone else, but you, Dean.”

Dean blinked in surprise. Castiel continued to stare at Dean in that way of his.

“Me? That’s not creepy or anything, Cas,” Dean said.

“You and I, Dean, we are connected. Even as a weak almost-human, I will be able to sense you. I will always know where you are and if you are alive or dead.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, that’s comforting.” It didn't come out quite as sarcastic as Dean meant it to be. 

They were both silent, then Castiel reached over and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“You should rest. I will keep the rest of the watch. Tomorrow we will find Sam.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Dean woke Hershel and Maggie and after a light breakfast of water, they were on the move again, retracing Dean and Castiel’s footsteps back to the highway.

As they walked, Dean tried to rub the croat’s blood off his face but without much luck; it had dried and would take some scrubbing to get it off his face and jacket. He resigned himself to continue to look like a murder victim until they were back at the highway. 

Dean knew they were nearing the highway as the trees began to thin. He quickened his pace, hoping the others would do the same. He shot a look over his shoulder to make sure that they were keeping up with him. Though, they were all tired, Hershel and Maggie seemed to know that they were nearing the end of their hike and walked with a renewed vigor.

As they neared the ditch that lined the road, Dean saw a thin line of smoke that trailed high into the blue sky. It was encircled by a group of cars. 

“They’re over there,” Dean said over his shoulder. He climbed up the shallow ditch. His feet skidded a little in the soft ground and he cast a quick look at the ground, regaining his balance.

His hunter eyes zeroed in on blood that was smeared on a few blades of grass and gravel. He hoped that no one had been hurt or killed while he was away.

Dean reached the road and began to weave his way through the cars, trying to turn his thoughts away from the blood and focus on what he was going to say to Rick. An apology was probably his best option, he decided as he entered the small clearing.

Dean stopped at the edge of the circle, noting that most of the women were up and about, presumably getting breakfast ready. Rick and Shane also stood near the fire, they were talking lowly.

He began to walk over to them. No one seemed to notice him so he called out, “Hey.” His voice caused Rick and Shane to jerk around, their hands going to their weapons at their belts.

“It’s just me,” Dean said stopping in front of them.

Shane glared at him and Rick didn’t look too pleased to see him either.

“What do you want?” Shane snapped, starting to come forward before Rick put a hand on his arm stopping him.

Dean tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I found some survivors out in the forest. They need help," he said the last part to Rick.

Rick tried to keep an irritated look on his face, but it quickly disappeared. He looked past Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turned, motioning Hershel and Maggie forward.

“This is Hershel and Maggie,” Dean said as Rick shook their hands. “They lost their farm to the croats a day or two ago.”

Rick smiled at them. “You must be tired and hungry.” He gestured at Lori to come forward. “My wife will help you find what you need. You are more than welcome to stay with us.”

Hershel and Maggie thanked Rick and then went with Lori to the RV.

Dean waited until they were gone before he said, “Now that it's light, I was hoping to get a search party going. Sam and Daryl need to be found.”

Rick opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a loud shout of, “Dean!”

Dean turned sharply. Sam was striding toward him from the outer edge of the cars. Dean could see Daryl trailing behind, his crossbow firmly attached to his back.

“Sammy?” Dean returned, marching to meet his brother. He ignored everything around him, his complete and total concentration on Sam.

Standing face to face, they paused only a moment before Dean crushed Sam in an embrace.

“Dean, Dean…ow! _Ow!_ ” Sam said, trying to worm his way out of Dean’s firm hug, which made Dean hold on tighter.

“Dean, ouch! The Wendigo got me pretty good. Please stop squeezing so tight.”

Dean pushed back, holding Sam at arms length.

“Wendigo?” His eyes narrowed and began to rake over Sam’s face and chest, looking at the wounds.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, seeing the cuts across Sam’s face.

Sam grimaced and gingerly touched the cuts. “Not really. Daryl was worse than me.”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Daryl, who was still standing behind Sam. Now that Sam had mentioned it, Dean could see that Daryl was looking a little gray and seemed to be swaying on his feet.

“Casualties?” he questioned Sam, resolving to make Daryl sit down after he was done talking to Sam.

“None,” Sam returned.

At least that was something.

“Dean,” Sam continued, “it followed us back here. It didn’t stay in the woods.”

Dean frowned.

“Don’t they usually stay in their hunting grounds?” He cast a look over the woods. “Isn’t this a little south for them too?”

Sam nodded.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Sam said, and then stiffened. For the first time he seemed to notice the blood that coated Dean’s face and jacket. Jolting forward, he grasped Dean’s face in both his hands, turning it both ways to make sure that Dean was okay.

“Dude, get off me.” Dean jerked his face away. “It’s just some blood from a croat I killed. Get off.”

Sam rolled his eyes, letting his hands fall to his side.

“Hey!” the sharp call broke into their reunion. Both Sam and Dean suddenly became aware of their surroundings again. Shane was standing next to the brothers, his face angry.

Dean faced him, crossing his arms.

“You seem upset.”

“Damn straight,” Shane hissed, “You boys are talking as if you’ve tangled with a wen…wendi… _whatever_ before.”

Dean shrugged. “So? We told you that we hunt those types of things. What part of hunt evil beings didn’t you get?”

Shane’s face seemed get redder.

“These monsters seem to be attracted to us since you and your brother showed up.”

Dean uncrossed his arms and shifted his stance slightly.

“I want you and your brother to get in that car of yours and start driving. I don't care where, just away from this group.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but Sam interjected.

“Listen, we didn’t ─,” Shane’s fist cut off whatever it was that Sam was going to say. Sam’s head snapped back and he stumbled away, his hands automatically going up to his face.

“Shut your mouth!” Shane snarled. “I ain’t talkin’ to you.”

“Touch my brother again it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” Dean snarled, stepping forward. 

Shane scoffed and took a step to Sam, taunting Dean. Dean’s fist lashed out catching Shane by surprise. He staggered back a few steps, reeling from Dean’s blow.

He lifted a hand and touched his split lip. Shane sneered at Dean almost as if he was asking for more.

Dean charged, trying to tackle Shane, but Shane was much larger than Dean and was ready for Dean’s attack. He managed to keep his balance.

Shane shoved at Dean, knocking him away. Dean lurched back a few steps. Before he could regain his balance, Shane grabbed Dean’s head between his hands and brought his knee up, smashing it into Dean’s face. Shane let Dean’s body drop to the gravel, spitting contemptuously.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, starting to go to his brother. He felt someone latch onto his elbow, stopping him. Angrily, he tried to shake the person off, but wasn’t able to.

“Let him be.” It was Daryl, “He don’ need yer help.”

Sam looked to where Dean was beginning to pull himself up from the ground. Dean’s nose was bleeding freely, but there was a glint in his eye that Sam knew meant Shane was in for an ass kicking.

Dean straightened and raised an arm to rub his sleeve across his bloody nose. It smeared across his face. He kept his eyes on Shane and seemed to be getting himself ready.

Shane seemed to realize that something had changed and he took a few steps away from Dean, wary.

Rick suddenly appeared standing near both of them. He wasn’t stupid enough to stand in between them, but he stood close so that he glared at both of them.

“Shane! Dean! Stop this right now! It’s stupid to be fighting each other.”

“They’re the ones that are bringing the monsters to us!” Shane shouted looked around at the rest of the group, including the growing circle that had formed around them in his gaze.

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, his hands tightening.

Rick shot a warning a look at Shane, but Shane ignored it.

“You and your brother,” he continued catching Dean’s gaze. “Raised by a backwoods drunk of a father.”

Dean didn’t blink, but his stance changed and even Rick could see that he was about to explode. Rick backed away from the two men, hoping that Shane was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Your bitch mother gave birth to criminals that even now are being chased by the rest of the world,” Shane said scornfully.

There was a general gasp from their audience. Daryl stalked forward, his eyebrows snapping down. “Shane, that’s too far!”

Shane’s head jerked around, finding Daryl. “Shut up, bitch.” That did it.

Shane wasn’t even aware that something had hit him until there was a sudden and sharp pain in his nose. Warm blood began to trickle down his face, covering his lips with its crimson embrace.

Dean didn’t give him a chance to recover. A quick second after he busted Shane’s nose, Dean’s hand shot out again jabbing into Shane’s throat. The next second, as Shane gasped for breath, Dean kicked out with his leg, doubling Shane over.

Dean’s elbow came down smashing into Shane’s exposed back. Shane crumbled to the road. The fight gone out of him, his whole body was struggling to breathe and react after Dean’s furious attack.

Shane curled, making a half moon shape. His body shook as he hacked for breath.

Dean crouched down next to him. He shoved at Shane’s shoulder, knocking Shane onto his back. Shane’s mouth was open and closing and his eyes were wide, blinking into the sun.

“You ever talk about my brother, mother or father again, I will finish what I started here.” He got to his feet, turning on his heel to leave.

“Go to hell.” Shane rasped.

Dean paused, casting a withering look at Shane. “Been there, done that.” No one in the circle doubted Dean’s words, as improbable as they were. They all remained silent, tensely waiting to see what Dean said next.

“Hell didn’t agree with me; it spit me back out.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured since I took a long time posting the last chapter I should post the second part right away. I actually really enjoying writing this chapter and like it quite a bit. Let me know what you think.   
> Thanks for all the kudos and comment from evave2.


	10. Dead Men Walking

**[Dead Men Walking]**

 The cars were parked and ready to go, but the members of Rick’s group weren’t in them. Instead they stood around the charred remains of their fire.

Most of them were silent, waiting for Rick to speak, though Shane kept shooting dirty looks from his bruised face at Dean.

Dean for his part, ignored Shane, his hands loosely slipped into his jacket pockets. Sam, Daryl, and Castiel stood next to him. It was plain to everyone that Dean already had a group following. That meant that if Dean moved on from the group, some of the best fighters would be leaving with him.

“We have decisions to make,” Rick started, standing next to the cold fire so everyone could see him. “Do we continue to Fort Benning or do we want to strike out somewhere else.” He waited for a beat, glancing around for any kind of reaction. Most faces were blank, they were exhausted and just wanted to go somewhere safe, but Rick could see the Winchesters looked thoughtful. The brothers shared a look and then Dean spoke up.

“I don’t think we should continue up to Fort Benning.” All eyes turned to settle on him. “The government had no idea about the monsters before this mess happened; what makes you think they'll be able to save us now?”

“But they can protect us,” Lori interjected, receiving nods from various members. “And they have more weapons than us.”

Dean snorted. “The government can’t protect you from things they don’t understand.”

“Who then?” Andrea said. 

“Hunters,” Sam put in. “There are other people out there like us. They know about the monsters and they’ll have places around the states that are protected.” Sam shot a look at Dean. “Like the Roadhouse or Bobby’s old place.” Dean nodded. 

“I know that in South Dakota there will be a base of operations that is ─ will be fighting to stop the dev…the walkers," Dean stumbled over his words, frowning. 

Rick raised an eyebrow at Dean’s broken answer.

Rick looked at Shane who had been living in this apocalypse much longer than he had. “Have you heard about this place, Shane?” Shane was already shaking his head.

Rick turned back to Dean, “Do you know who’s running it?”

Dean’s lips twitched almost like he wanted to smile.

“Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

Rick was starting to get a little annoyed at Dean’s cryptic answers.

“Who’s leading it? Would I know him?”

“Yeah, I think you might.”

Daryl’s head swiveled around catching sight of Dean’s quick smile; Dean was messing with Rick. Daryl shook his head, but kept his mouth shut.

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He didn’t wait for an answer; instead he roughly jerked Dean out of the circle.

No one could quite hear what was being said, but Daryl could make out the occasional, “Dean, shut up.” Daryl felt his own lips pull into a smile.

The group waited for Sam to finish scolding Dean, most grinning at the brothers’ backs.

When Sam had finished saying his piece, they both turned and joined the circle again.

Dean cleared his throat, his smile disappearing. “I know that we’ll be safe there. The Croats won’t be able to get us.” The sincerity in his voice was easy to hear. 

Rick turned to give everyone a good look, silently asking what they thought of Dean’s plan.

“Why should we trust you?” Shane said loudly.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, but then turned his head so that he could see Shane.

“Have we given you reason not to?” he asked.

Shane disregarded this, instead saying, “We’ve known you boys for what, three days? That’s barely enough time to for you to tell us your favorite color.”

“Easy,” Dean quipped, “Green.”

“Dean…” Sam groaned, raising a hand to cover his face. 

“You know what--,”

“Shane, stop!” Rick growled; he didn’t need another fistfight on his hands.

“Maybe we should take a vote,” Glenn said from his corner. There was a murmur of agreement.

“Okay,” Rick said, relieved that someone had spoken up. “Those of you that want to continue on to Fort Benning, raise your hand.”

There was a slight pause and then Shane raised his hand, followed by Lori, Andrea and Dale.

Shane kept his hand up, waiting for anyone else. When no one did, he let out a low growl and then dropped his hand back down to his side. 

“Alright,” Rick said after a few seconds. “All who want to follow Dean to South Dakota and his place.”

Sam and Castiel didn't bother raising their hands, everyone knew that where one brother went the other would follow. 

“Hell, y’all know I’m in,” Daryl said after a quick beat. 

Daryl's vote was quickly followed by Glenn, Hershel, Maggie, Carol, and T-Dog.

There was complete silence after the vote, and then Rick said, “Well, I guess that settles the matter. We’re heading to South Dakota.”

* * *

 

 After they had been driving for a few hours, Sam turned to face Dean. He reached his large hand over and turned down AC/DC that Dean had been playing for the past fifty miles or so on a loop.

“Hey,” Dean protested, though he didn’t reach over to turn it back up again.

“Dean,” Sam said his voice serious. “What do you think we’re going to find when we get there?” Dean shrugged his eyes facing the front, glued on Daryl’s bike that led the party.

“You can’t promise these people safety and have no clue of what’s there!” Sam’s voice began to rise, but he dropped it low again when Castiel shifted in his sleep from his seat in the back.

“What was I supposed to do, Sam? Huh? Just let them go off to some other place that may or may not give them protection?” Dean gave Sam a quick, angry look. “You know as well as I do that _everyone_ runs to the nearest form of military in a time of crisis. If one person who got into Fort Benning was infected there goes the whole place up in smoke. It's too dangerous to risk.”

He jerked on the wheel angrily, causing the impala to swerve. Dean righted the car and shot another glare at Sam. “At least we know that something _is_ going to be set up in South Dakota.”

“No, Dean. You think you know something will be there. _I_ don’t know. I wasn’t there, seeing as I was too busy being ridden by the devil,” Sam snapped.

Dean pressed his lips together tightly. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to trust me, Sam. I hope you can do that.”

Sam frowned angrily. “What’s that suppose to mean?” he demanded.

“You know what it means,” Dean retorted and then bit off what he was going to say. “Never mind.”

“No, Dean, I want to know what you were going to say. Tell me,” Sam said, his voice mock curious.

“Dammit, Sam. Just drop it and trust me.” 

Sam opened his mouth to snap something back, but he seemed to think better about it and shut it. He turned in his seat, focusing his glare out the window at the passing scenery. 

* * *

 

Dean and Sam kept a frosty silence between them for the rest of the ride, but as the sun was just beginning to set Sam broke the silence. He knew that he would have to tell Dean about Payne; Dean couldn’t hear it from anyone else but him.

Sam cleared his throat, earning him an uninterested look from Dean.

“Dean.”

“Hmm?”

Sam raked a hand through his long hair, letting it flop back on his forehead.

“I didn’t tell you everything about what happened back in the forest with Daryl and me.”

Dean frowned, not liking where this was going.

“We didn’t just run into a Wendigo. Locke and Royce were out there too.” Sam didn't give Dean a chance to say anything. “There was also this other guy named Payne. I’ve never heard of him―,”

“Wait, what,” Dean interjected, “Payne?”

“What?” Sam demanded.

“We hunted a creepy ass monster in Wisconsin when you were still in school and I was running hunts on my own. He was a bit of a douchebag and cold as hell, but good at the job.”

“Oh,” Sam said not sure how to proceed. “Daryl and I ran into all three of them. They weren’t very friendly.”

“Hunters rarely are, Sam.”

“They tried to kill us.”

Dean slammed on the brakes and the Impala jerked and swerved across the road, receiving a blaring horn from Shane, who was driving behind them.

The impala skidded to a halt in the middle of the road, causing the rest of the cars to stop suddenly to avoid hitting them.

Dean shoved open his door ignoring whatever it was that Sam was yelling at him.

He stalked toward the RV, knowing that it would be where they were keeping Payne.

The others were starting to get out of their respective cars, all shooting confused looks at each other.

“What the hell is goin’ on, Dean?” Rick shouted coming around his own car. He stopped midstride when he was the glare on Dean’s face. “Dammit…” he muttered, knowing trouble was coming.

Rick started to run toward Dean. “Dean, you need to stay away from him! You can’t kill him.”

Dean didn’t even spare a glance at Rick. He wrenched open the RV door, almost breaking it off its hinges.

Rick swore as Dean disappeared into the depths of the RV. Beckoning Shane to him, Rick dashed to the door and was about to enter when Dean came stomping back out, Payne in one hand.

Dean shoved Rick and Shane out of the way and threw Payne onto the gravel road.

His hand went down to his belt and with a flourish Dean pulled out his KA-Bar from its sheath. 

“Dean!” Sam shouted, from the Impala’s side. He raced forward to restrain his hotheaded brother.

Dean raised his free hand to ward Sam off. “Stay back, Sammy.”

Sam skidded to a halt in front Payne and Dean. “Dean, stop this. We don’t kill humans. We kill monsters.”

“This guy is a monster in my book,” Dean said not missing a beat. “Look, Sam. Gordon, Roy, Walt…We let them go. Gordon came back, not once. Twice. How much do you wanna bet Payne got his information on you from Walt and Roy?” Dean said ignoring everyone but his brother. He put a booted foot on Payne’s chest and looked down at the man. “He needs to die.”

Lori gasped, her hands tightened around Carl’s shoulders.

Rick slowly began to move closer to Dean, his eyes earnest.

“Look, Dean. I understand that you don’t want Sam to get hurt or anything, but we don’t kill the living.”

“You might not, but I can and will if I have to," Dean said, giving Rick a hard look.

Rick shot Sam a pleading look.

“Dean, if you think that you’re doing me a favor, you’re wrong. I don’t want him dead. You know that,” Sam said. "This whole thing is for you. _You_ want to kill him because..." Sam trailed off. 

Dean's mouth worked. "Because what, Sam?" 

Sam caught Dean's eyes and said quietly. "Because you couldn't protect me then and you're not going to let him hurt me again." 

Dean’s jaw jumped and his hold around his knife tightened. He glared down at Payne, who was trying not to look afraid, but failing. Dean let out a breath, and with it his anger. He lowered the knife and took his boot off Payne. "Dammit."  

* * *

 

Dean rested his chin on his hands. From the pale glow of the fire, he could see the sidelong looks that the rest of the group was giving him. They had almost seen him kill a human being today and they were disgusted with him. He knew that. But he would have done whatever was necessary to keep Sam safe, even if that meant killing another hunter.

Sam had gone into the impala an hour ago, sleeping in the passenger side while Castiel was still conked out in the back. Dean didn’t feel much like sleeping. There were too many thoughts racing through his mind.

He stiffened as there was a scuffle of movement next to him and someone sat down in one of the two empty spots near him.

Dean turned his head to the side to see who his visitor was.

It was Daryl. Dean frowned a little.

Daryl gave him a nod and balanced his crossbow on his knees.

“I would’ve killed him.”Dean didn’t need to ask who Daryl meant.

“Wha’ these people,” Daryl threw his hand out, indicating the group that huddled in small circles around the fire and RV, “don’ know is wha’ they got ta do ta survive.”

Daryl put his hands on his crossbow, fiddling with his arrows. He didn’t look at Dean, instead keeping his eyes on the flickering flames of the small fire.

“Sure they migh’ think they know. But they don’ see the threat tha’ Payne is. He’s another mouth ta feed and take care of. We can’t spare the men ta keep watch over him and if he gits away, you can be damn sure tha’ he’ll be headin’ right back to his group.”

Dean didn’t say anything, waiting for Daryl to continue with his rare speech.

“When Payne finds his group, they’ll come gunning fer us.”

“I know,” Dean said after a moment, but didn’t say anything else. The decision had been made.

He gave Daryl a hard look, trying to figure out the man. Daryl stubbornly kept his eyes on the fire.

“Daryl,” Dean said, waiting a beat for Daryl to look at him, but Daryl didn’t. Dean swallowed unsure of how to continue with what he wanted to tell the man. He finally settled with a simple, but true sentence. 

“You’re a decent man.” 

* * *

 

Daryl woke suddenly. He blinked at the ceiling of RV.

He spent a moment lying on his back, Dean’s words from the night before echoing through his mind.

_You’re a decent man._

Obviously Dean didn’t know him very well. Daryl sat up from his mess of covers and rubbed the heel of his palms into his gritty eyes.

He shot a quick glance around the RV, noting that Dale and Andrea weren’t in their usual spots.

There was a sudden, but piercing scream from outside. He jerked to his feet and shoved open the screen door, loading an arrow onto his crossbow as he went.

The screen door banged behind him as he looked for an immediate threat; after a moment, Daryl lowered his crossbow when he didn’t see any walkers.

“Wha’ the hell is goin’ on?” he demanded as he saw Rick, Shane and the Winchesters by the stone cold fire. He ignored the rest of the camp that was slowly beginning to come out from their various sleeping areas, woken by the scream.

The broad back of Sam was blocking his view of whatever was lying on the ground; all that he could see was a dark shape laying at their feet.

Daryl could now hear quiet sobs coming from where the men stood.

He growled in frustration when they didn’t answer him. He stalked to where they stood and pushed his way between the Winchesters.

Daryl stopped in his tracks.  

Dale’s lifeless eyes stared up at him from the ground, his mouth hanging open slightly. Daryl swallowed as his eyes trailed down Dale’s body, noting the fact that his stomach was split open from underneath his chin to his belly button. Most of Dale’s insides seemed to be missing. The side of his head also had a puncture wound, with a trail of red blood down the side.

Daryl cast a quick glance at Andrea, who knelt next to her dead friend; her hands bloody and her eyes swollen from crying.

“I just…came out to…see if Dale wanted company…” she gasped out to him. “He was dead.” Andrea cried out, burying her hands into her face. Her shoulders shook with her sobs.

Daryl didn’t say anything to her, knowing that you had to get the pain out somehow.

He focused his gaze back on their dead comrade and frowned. He crouched down, putting his knees on the gravel.

Daryl reached out and gently touched the blood that had pooled around the old man’s torso. The blood was still sticky and clung to his fingers.

Daryl cast a glance up at Rick, then at Dean.

“Walker got him?” he asked quietly.

Rick mutely nodded.

Daryl turned back to the body, the frown still etched on his face.

“Tha’ don’t make no sense,” he muttered. If a walker had gotten Dale, then why wasn’t there more blood? Why did the bloody body look much too clean to be attacked by the hands of mindless walkers?

Daryl got his feet, keeping his thoughts to himself. He briefly rested his hand on Andrea’s shoulder, before moving away from the body.

Daryl went to the RV, leaning against it. He watched as the Winchesters helped Shane and Rick carry the body away from the main area of the camp to the side of the road, while the rest of the group watched with somber eyes.

Daryl narrowed his eyes as Dean started coming towards him. Dean stopped in front of him and coughed.

“I heard you over there,” Dean said, “You don’t think that Dale was attacked by a Croat do you?”

Daryl didn’t say anything.

“Neither do I,” Dean said, leaning closer, his voice dropping. “I don’t know what got Dale, but something knew what it was doing when it took out Dale’s insides. The job was clean and quick. You touched the blood; it was still sticky. That means that it must have happened sometime this morning, when Dale took over the watch from Glenn.”

Daryl listened, not moving, but staring intently at Dean.

“Keep an eye out, okay, Daryl?”

Daryl nodded, tightening his grip on his crossbow. Dean turned to leave, but then stopped and turned back.

“One more thing…Whatever this thing was, it only went for Dale. Why? It could have gotten me, Sam or Cas. We were sleeping in the impala away from the rest of the group, but it left us alone. Whatever it is, it’s still out there…and it’s only getting started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that this took me such a long time to get posted. I've been incredibly busy with school and life, but I'm hoping not to take such a long time with the next chapter.  
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from: evave2, Sharon, and Spike. I really appreciate them.


	11. The Zombies in the Park are Looking for My Heart

**[The Zombies in the Park are looking for my heart]**

Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was right. Maybe it _was_ crazy driving these people to South Dakota when he didn’t even know what he would find there. So what if he went into the future. He had changed that future when he called Sam back to him and they vowed to stop the apocalypse together. A lot of good that pact had done, Dean thought bitterly. The apocalypse was here; they hadn’t stopped it from happening.

What did he expect to find at that small camp in South Dakota?

Dean frowned and then rubbed a hand down his face. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was just waiting to happen. He could feel death looming over the group and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.   

Dean's frown deepened, his thoughts turning to the most recent death. Dale’s death had been strange. It didn’t seem like a Croat had gotten him. The cuts were too clean, not like Croat hands tearing into someone’s stomach. But if it wasn’t a Croat, then what had gotten him? That was the million dollar question. 

“…Dean?”

Dean jerked and became aware of his surroundings once again.

“Yeah?” he said, looking up from the endless road in front of him. “What, Sam?”

Sam was giving him a concerned look from the passenger seat. “You were really out of it, man. You were starting to swerve.”

Sam shot a look out the window at the darkening sky. “Maybe I should drive for a bit. You’ve been driving all day.”

Dean shook his head, forcing his eyes to focus on the back of Daryl’s bike. “Nah. I’m good.” Dean could feel Sam’s unbelieving stare, but he ignored it. 

* * *

 

As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered if Sam had taken over driving for Dean. Daryl led the group off the main road and onto a small dirt road. It was getting dark and they would need to get their camp up before it was too hard to see. 

Dean got out of the impala and stretched his arms out above his head. He yawned widely, before rubbing a hand down his face.

He looked around the circle of vehicles before making his way over to where Daryl was standing next to his bike.

“Hey, man," Dean greeted.

Daryl looked up and jerked a step back from Dean.

Dean frowned, confused at the reaction.

“What?” he asked, “Something on my face?” Dean scrubbed at his face with one hand, feeling his thickening stubble under his palm. 

Daryl mutely shook his head, still staring at Dean’s eyes. He ducked his head and moved away from Dean, going around his bike to get at the saddle bags.

Dean quirked an eyebrow, but shrugged and moved from Daryl to help with setting up the camp with everyone else.

* * *

 Daryl watched Dean leave, shivering slightly. He dropped his saddle bags to the ground, staring at Dean's retreating back. When Dean had come over, his eyes had been glowing. Not just glowing from the dying sun, but glowing white.

Daryl glared at the saddle bag at his feet. He pounded a hand against his head. What was wrong with him?

“Dude, don’t hit yourself.” Daryl looked up at Sam’s voice. “You don’t want to hurt yourself any more than you already are.” 

Daryl’s retort died on his lips and his eyes widened in shock. Sam’s eyes were black.

Sam saw Daryl’s face change and he took a concerned step around the bike.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Daryl didn’t say a word, merely gave a swift nod and took off running in the opposite direction of both Winchesters. 

He ran with his head down, so he didn’t see the shape in front of him until it was too late.

Daryl ran straight into Shane and promptly landed on his ass.

“Watch were yer goin’!” he snapped up at Shane from the dirt.

Shane looked down at the hunter impassively, not impressed with his sharp words.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re goin’, Daryl," Shane said. “You’re the one that ran into me.”  

Daryl’s eyes widened and he scuttled away from Shane, kicking dust and gravel up as he did so. In the back of his mind, Daryl was telling himself that he shouldn’t have been surprised at Shane’s new face. After all he had just seen both Winchesters’ eyes turn a different color. Why should he be surprised that Shane’s face had gotten dark and wispy, making it difficult to focus on. Shane’s eyes had also changed color. Instead of their normal brown color, they had turned a drastic shade of red. The man in front of him didn’t look like the cop that he knew.

“Daryl, what’s the matter?” Shane asked, worrying coloring his voice. He stepped forward, stretching out his hand to help Daryl up from the ground. 

Daryl ignored the hand and sprang to his feet on his own. He automatically went for his crossbow that should have been slung over his shoulder, but his hand only met empty air. Daryl threw a quick glance behind him, where his weapon was still hanging from his bike.

“Stay away from me," he said in a low voice, facing Shane again. He held up his hand, warning Shane back. 

The cop frowned. “What the hell, man? It’s just me. What’s the matter with you?”

Daryl didn’t say anything, but he wanted to know the same thing. Maybe his head had been hit harder than he thought.

For the time being, though, Daryl was going to treat these new "visions" as a threat. He slowly started to back away from Shane. His eyes were locked on Shane’s odd face, when there was a sudden and blinding flash of light in front of him.

Daryl felt a scream tear from his throat and he began clawing at his eyes. His eyes were on fire and his head felt like it was about to explode from the pain pounding in his skull.

Daryl wasn’t aware that he was falling, until he felt his body hit the dirt. His head slammed against the hard ground and he mercifully blacked out, stopping the pain and fire abruptly. 

* * *

 

“What the hell just happened?” Dean yelled at Shane, running to where Daryl had collapsed to the dirt floor. He dropped to his knees, rolling Daryl over onto his back.

Daryl’s eyes were open, but were flickering wildly.

“Daryl?” Dean said quietly. He gently patted Daryl’s cheeks, hoping to get a response from the man.

There was movement next to him and Dean looked up. Castiel stood next to Shane, his blue eyes wide with surprise. It was probably the most facial expressions that Dean had ever seen from the angel. 

“What happened?” Dean demanded again. Shane looked down at Dean uneasily. He raised his hand to rub the back of his head. 

“I don’ know, man. He ran into me and then just starting flippin’ out. I don’t know what I did.” Shane took a breath and continued slowly. “I think that if he had his crossbow, he would have shot me.” 

Shane unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest.  

“It’s alright," Rick said gripping his friend’s forearm.

Dean looked away from Castiel and Shane and saw that the entire group were hovering around him and Daryl.

“Back up, everyone!” Dean said, throwing his arms wide, indicating the space that he wanted clear.

They moved slowly, taking shuffling steps backwards.

“What’s the matter with him?” Carol asked softly. Her arms were around Sophia and her eyes were wide with worry.

“I don’t know,” Dean said helplessly. “He’s not responding.”

Sam crouched down next to his brother, touching Daryl’s pale face with one hand.

“He’s really cold, man," Sam said lowly to his brother. His brown eyes were wide, but Dean knew that Sam was good under pressure and would do whatever Dean needed him to do. 

“We need to get him warm," Dean said suddenly. He gripped one of Daryl’s arms, and motioned for Sam to take the other.

Together they hoisted their friend up from the dirt and began to carry him to the RV.

* * *

Dean stepped down from the RV ten minutes later, a defeated look on his face. Rick strode forward, questioning Dean with his eyes.

Dean shook his head.

“He hasn’t woken up or anything,” Dean said lowly so that only Rick could hear him.

The rest of the group had reluctantly gone about getting the small dirt road set up for the night on Rick’s command, but Shane and Rick had decided to wait outside the RV for Dean and Sam.

The screen door opened again and Sam came out to stand next to Dean. He raked a hand through his hair tiredly, leaving it sticking at odd angles. 

“We’re going to have to wait. There’s nothing we can do. Either he wakes up…or he doesn’t,” Same said grimly.

“Wait, wait," Shane said stepping forward. “What do you mean? You mean Daryl could die?”

Dean shrugged. “We don’t know. We have no idea what’s wrong with him. Sam was thinking maybe he was injured worse than we thought. He could have a concussion or something worse. We just don’t know.”

“What _do_ you know?” Shane snapped.

“Shut up, dude,” Dean said without heat. “Just shut up.” He brushed past the bigger man, his face drawn and tired.

Sam shot a glare at Shane and then followed his brother.

* * *

 

No one was sleeping well; they all were worried about Daryl. Although the hunter could be a pain in the ass sometimes, he was needed and important to the group.

So when someone screamed in the darkest part of the night, the response was immediate.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean yelled, getting a feeling of déjà vu. He ran from the impala, where he had been sleeping, to the door of the RV. Everyone was gathering around the entrance of the RV.

He skidded to a halt behind Lori and Andrea. They parted without any resistance to let him see what was going on. The sight that lay before him, stopped Dean cold.

His mouth turned into a grim line as he stared down at the dead body that at his feet. He loosened his grip on the ranger shotgun he had grabbed and let his arm fall limply by his side.

“Dean, what is it?” Sam said, coming up behind him. “What’s going on? Is Daryl okay?”

Sam peered over Dean’s shoulder and swallowed hard.

“Shit.”

T-Dog lay in a puddle of blood at the steps of the RV. His throat was slashed and his eyes were wide and lifeless.

Dean’s eyes went from T-Dog’s face down to his bare arms. Two long cuts were dug into both of T-Dog’s arm. They went from the crook of his elbow down to his wrist. Blood was still oozing out of the slashes.

“What happened?” Dean said quietly. He looked around the terrified faces, waiting for someone to answer. 

“I-I found him like this,” Maggie spoke up. She stepped forward, so that Dean could see her. Tears streamed down her face, but she was clearly trying to keep it together.

“I was coming from the RV to go to the bathroom. I didn’t see him until I tripped over his body.” She glanced down at the lifeless body at her feet and swallowed.

“Oh, shit," she mumbled and ran out of the circle. They could hear her retching into the ditch from where they stood. 

Rick came forward, his face was ashen, but he didn’t look like he was in danger of gagging like Maggie.

He took Dean’s arm and propelled him away from the circle. Sam followed closely on his brother's heels.

“Look,” Rick said quietly. “This is the second one of our people that’s been killed in two nights. This obviously isn’t a walker.” He paused and threw another glance at T-Dog’s body. “We need this to stop. Is there a possibility that it might be…one of your type of monsters?” he asked carefully.

Dean scratched his chin and locked gazes with Sam.

“What do you think, Sammy? Our type of case?”

Sam chewed on his bottom lip.“It’s possible. I mean we just tangled with a freaking Wendigo, who was not supposed to be this far south." He paused, his eyes darkening. "If there’s some monster offing these people, we need to deal with it and quick.” 

Rick nodded; he was still coming to terms with Sam and Dean's types of monsters, but one thing he did know was that he was grateful they had the boys with them. 

There was another shout and Shane came running up to them. 

“We got another problem," he said, his breath coming in heavy gasps.

Rick’s eyebrows went down and his grip tightened on his pistol at his side. 

“Payne is gone,” Shane huffed out. “I just went to check on him and he was gone. His ropes were cut clean through." Shane swallowed and then said, "Either he had a knife, or someone let him out.”

Dean shut his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We are so fucked.”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while since I posted a chapter. Sorry about that. School got insane and I basically had to ignore everything if I wanted to get all my homework done. But the good news is that I'm finally on break and I really do plan on updating this story more often!  
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from: Spike and P_Alyese.


	12. A Decent Man

**[A Decent Man]**

The next day they traveled as long as they could before the sun started to dip in the sky. They were making good time and would be in Sioux Falls soon. It helped that there wasn’t any traffic, Dean thought wryly. He quickly sobered at the thought of Daryl, who still lay unconscious on the bed in the RV.

Dean then turned his thoughts to the troubling matter of Payne escaping. That man was going to come back and this time he wouldn’t be alone. He would bring more men, probably more hunters, and they were going to kill Sam and anyone else that got in their way. 

Dean gave a low hiss of frustration, his hands tightening on the Impala's wheel. The group should have let him kill the man when he had the chance; they were going to pay for that mistake sooner rather than later. 

"Dean," Sam said from the passenger seat, pulling Dean from his dark thoughts. 

Dean's eyes flickered to Sam's before returning to the road ahead of them. "Yeah?" 

He saw Sam swallow before saying softly, "We should make a stop." He didn't have to clarify where he wanted to go; both of the brothers hadn't forgotten about Bobby. 

Dean's lips twisted. "I thought you said he was dead. So what's the point, right?" 

Sam sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair. "Stop it, Dean. You make it sound like I don't care about Bobby. You know that I do. He's like a father to both of us. Don't you think I would want to know if he's alive?" Sam's voice had slowly risen with his words. "So stop acting like a dick and just make the stop." 

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Whatever you say, Sammy. We'll go." 

"Good," Sam huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, but Dean could see Sam's shoulder easing and knew that Sam wasn't really that mad at him. 

He pulled on the wheel, making the necessary change in their course. 

When they stopped at the gates of Singer Salvage the sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon. 

Dean motioned for Sam to stay in the Impala, but got out himself. He crossed the gravel to where Rick was also getting out of his car, a confused look on his face. 

"Is this it?" he asked. 

Dean shook his head. "We needed to make a stop. Sam and I," he clarified, jerking his chin back towards his waiting brother. "We'll drive up to the house, but you should all stay here. Don't wander into the yard; Croats could be hiding among the cars." 

"What's down there?" Rick asked nodded to the gates. He wasn't especially pleased to have made an unscheduled stop without being informed, but he knew that arguing with Dean wouldn't get him to the safety of the camp Dean promised.

"Something Sam and I need to check on," Dean said.

The two men glared at each other for a beat before Dean sighed.

"Fine. Our friend lives here. He's a hunter, like us, but we need to make sure he's okay. We haven't heard from him and we're worried." Dean mouth snapped shut; he had said too much. Rick was giving him a sympathetic look.

"Your friend, Bobby, right?"

"Yeah." Dean's reply was short. "Just sit tight and we'll be back."

He turned on his heel and walked back to the Impala. He slid into the seat, slamming the door behind him. For a moment, he only stared at the black wheel in front of him. Part of him wanted to put the car into drive and squeal the tires in his haste to make sure Bobby was okay, but the other part of him was afraid of what they might find. When he had been sent back, Bobby had already been dead by the time Dean had managed to get to his house and Dean wasn't sure he could handle that again. 

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded in the small space. 

Dean could feel Sam's sympathetic eyes on him without even having to look. 

"Yeah, yeah." 

The Impala rumbled forward taking them through the maze of cars that filled Bobby's yard. At the house, Dean and Sam left Castiel sleeping in the back, how he was still asleep they didn't know, and made their way to the front porch. 

The front door was ripped off its hinges, lying on the floor inside the house. 

Both Sam and Dean stared at the wooden door and, as one, they pulled out their silver pistols. 

Dean took the lead, slowly stepping onto the door. He gave Sam a nod, motioning for Sam to go upstairs while he took the downstairs. Sam returned the nod and moved past his brother. 

Dean's gut was twisting as he cleared the kitchen of any threats, moving on to the living room. This all felt too familiar.

The boards creaked under his booted feet as he paced into the living room. His green eyes scanned the room, freezing as he caught sight of an overturned wheelchair.

"Dammit," Dean moaned, lowering his tense arms and gun. He moved forward, kneeling beside the chair. Reaching out, he placed his fingers on the leather back of the chair, tracing the blood that had dried into it. "Dammit," he repeated softly.

"Dean..." Sam's voice trailed off and Dean felt Sam sink down into a crouch next to him.

Sam let out a long breath, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"We're too late," Dean said.

"It's not our fault, Dean," Sam said immediately.

Dean turned his head to the side to shoot a glare at Sam. "It's not? Are you sure about that, Sammy? Who started this mess in the first place?"

Sam's eyes darkened. "So you're saying it's my fault? Because I'm the one that opened the gate and let the Devil out, right?" 

"No," Dean snapped. "I'm not saying that. You know that's not what I meant." He paused and sat back on his heels. "I'm saying that it was our fault that even of this is happening. Our fault." He stressed that single word harshly. "Not just you, but me too. I broke the first seal, you let the Devil out. It's just been a domino effect, Sam. One wrong move causes the next problem and it just keeps going."

Sam's eyes had softened and he reached out to place his hand on Dean's shoulder. "We're going to fix this, Dean. Remember? We'll find a way to fix all of this."

Dean brushed a hand to his eyes, flicking away unshed tears. "Yeah, I know."

"We...We need to go," Sam finally said. "We can't leave the others out there. We need to get them to safety."

"Yeah."

* * *

Sam and Dean didn't talk as they drove in the rapidly darkening light. Each lost in their own thoughts about Bobby and the shit that they were in. It seemed impossible that there could be a way to fix this mess, and they both knew it. But neither was willing to be the first one to say it. So they kept quiet, deciding to keep trying, to keep fighting. 

Finally, Dean pulled the impala to a stop in front of the tall wire fence. He shut off the engine and looked at Sam. 

“We’re here," he said, his voice sounded loud after the long silence. 

Sam craned his head forward to look out the window.

“It doesn’t look like much," he commented.

“Neither do you," Dean shot back, trying to lighten the mood. His eyes traveled up Sam’s hulking form and forced a chuckle. “Nevermind.”

Same cracked a smile at his brother, thankful for Dean's effort. 

Both brothers opened their doors and unfolded themselves from the car.

Dean slammed his door shut, and tapped on the backseat’s window. “C’mon, Cas. Let’s go," he said, looking ahead at the looming fence.

Castiel did as Dean commanded and pulled himself from the back seat of the impala, rubbing tiredly at his blue eyes. 

Rick and Shane came walking up to the Winchesters, warily casting glances at the deserted area beyond the fence.

“Alright,” Rick said, one thumb hooked on his belt. His other hand rested on his pistol, ready for the worst. “What do we do now?” 

“Sam, Cas, and I go in, see what’s happening then came for you guys,” Dean said as if that was obvious course of action. 

Rick was already shaking his head. “I don’t like it. Shane and I should go with you.”

Dean shrugged, giving in quickly. “Alright. If you want. Tell Glenn or Andrea to take watch up on the RV."

* * *

Dean was the first one through the tall fence. He had his Colt out and was carefully scanning the area for possible threats, as the others pulled themselves through the tight cut in the fence.

“See anything?” Sam asked quietly coming to stand next to Dean’s elbow.

Dean shot him a quick glance, shaking his head as he did so. “Nothing so far, but I’m sure they’re out there.”

“Let’s go,” Rick whispered coming up to the brothers. “Castiel and Shane are through.”

Dean nodded and waved his hand forward. “Follow me.”

Dean led the way through the thin underbrush, his gun was held a low angle, but ready to bring it up at a moment’s notice.

He scanned the area looking for any sign of living or dead members of the people that he had seen in his time jump. All that he could see was wooden shacks that were lined along a gravel road. The road curved and so did the houses. Dean couldn’t see what was beyond that. 

They had walked forward a few feet and had begun to step onto the gravel road, when a voice suddenly rang out.

“Stop right there.”

Dean and the others froze.

“We aren’t here to hurt anyone,” Dean called back, his head swiveling around trying to locate the voice.

“Then why are you here?” the voice snapped back.

“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” Dean said.

“And we should care, why?" the voice said.

Rick shot Dean a nervous look. “I thought you said you knew who ran this place?” Rick hissed.

“Things have changed," Dean retorted, his eyes still flickering around the area.

“How about this,” Dean tried again, “We’ll put down our weapons.” Dean ignored the grunt of surprise from Shane. “And you take us to your leader―,” Sam rolled his eyes, “―then let him decide what to do with us.”

There was silence for a long moment and Dean began to feel a little uneasy. Then the voice came back, “Alright. Set your weapons down right there and put your hands on your heads.”

Dean threw a confirming looks to the others and slowly put his gun to the gravel. He also took his buck knife off his belt, placing it next to his silver gun. He then placed his hands on his head, lacing his fingers together. 

Slowly, out of the shacks, came six men; all wearing fatigues and dirty green coats. They had suspicious looks glinting in their eyes. Their fingers were on the triggers of their M-16s, ready to put holes in Dean and the others. The six men formed a rough circle around Dean’s group, their guns pointed at them.

Nobody said anything for a beat, until one of the men stepped forward. His eyes traveled over Dean and the others. He frowned and then spoke, “We’re taking you to our prophet.” 

* * *

 

One of the men banged on the wooden door. They were greeted with silence and then, “Go away.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up and he exchanged a quick look with Sam. “Hey,” he started to say, before one of the six men reached out and roughly slapped Dean on the back of his head.

“Shut it," the man snarled.

Dean glared at the man and opened his mouth to retort, when the door opened and a tired, curly haired man poked his head out. 

"Listen, guys, it's been a rough night..." he trailed off before saying, “Dean?” His squinting eyes landed on Dean and then traveled to Sam and finally to Castiel. His whole face brightened and a smile broke across his features. 

Dean grinned back. “Heya, Chuck. Long time, no see.”

Chuck shoved the door open and ignored the six men, going straight for Dean with his arms wide.

Dean backed up in surprise. “Whoa, easy there, Chuck.”

Chuck ignored Dean’s warning and wrapped his arms around Dean, mumbling something about being saved into Dean's chest. Dean awkwardly patted the top of Chuck’s curly head.

“It’s good to see you too, Chuck,” Dean said.

Chuck released Dean and nodded vigorously. “I can’t tell you boys how happy I am to see you. I thought you had died or worse been taken as vessels." His voice had dropped a pitch and he leaned forward, "I thought you might have said yes to them. When all this crap started happening, I couldn’t think of what else could have caused it.”

There was a confused grunt from Shane, and Dean remembered that Rick, Shane and the six men were still standing around them, watching with confused frowns on their faces. 

“Chuck, you mind calling your dogs off us," Dean said jerking his head to the men.

Chuck’s eyes flickered over to the men.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Dean. Guys, it’s okay. I know these guys. They’re my friends and if we lucky they’re here to save us.” Chuck made shooing motions with his hands.

The leader of the six men didn’t look convinced. “I don’t like it," he said, and none of the men moved.

Chuck frowned. “It’s fine. I said I know them, Jesse.”

Jesse glared at the Winchesters, his hands tightening around his weapon.

“Fine, but we’re gonna be over there.” He pointed toward another ramshackle house. “Hollar if you need us." He paused. "And they’re not getting their guns back.” With those final words the men backed away.     

“Chuck, it’s good to see you,” Sam said coming forward with a smile on his face. He willingly submitted to Chuck’s embrace, before he shot a look at Dean.

“Did you know Chuck was going to be here?” he demanded.

Dean shrugged, smirking. “Yeah, I kinda thought he would be.”

“Who is this guy?” Rick asked, coming to stand next to them.

“Sorry, Rick,” Dean said, stepping aside to make room for the other man. “This is our friend, Chuck. We knew him from before all this shit went down.”

Chuck gave Shane and Rick a small, awkward wave. “Hey.”

Rick nodded, content for the time being with the introduction.

“Listen, Chuck,” Dean said. “We need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”

Chuck was already nodding.

“Of course you can stay here.” Chuck frowned as a thought occurred to him. “How did you boys know I was here? I haven’t talked to you both in months.”

Dean grimaced a little. He didn’t want to talk about Zachariah sending him forward in time. Even by the Winchester’s standards, it was a crazy story and he didn’t want Rick or Shane to hear it.

But Chuck was waiting expectantly and from the corner of Dean’s eye, he could see Rick perk up; he obviously wanted to know the same thing.

Dean cleared his throat and shifted his stance.

“Maybe we should get the others in here first,” Sam put in, gesturing vaguely behind them.

Dean shot him a grateful look and nodded.

Chuck’s eyes followed Sam’s hand. “There’s more of you? Since when did you boys travel in packs?”

“Since the apocalypse, buddy,” Dean said, clapping a hand on Chuck's shoulder.

Castiel frowned suddenly and stepped forward.

“Hey, Cas. It’s good to see you…whole,” Chuck said, swallowing uneasily. Last time he had seen the angel, Castiel had been in pieces. 

Castiel nodded gravely in return.

“Prophet,” he spoke, “I wish to know why you have not seen the doings of the Winchesters. Shouldn't you know all that they have been doing?"

Chuck nervously shook his head, “No. I haven’t been having as many visions lately. And they’re never about Sam or Dean. It’s always the same thing and it’s always just a snippet. Like a picture.” Chuck frowned, his eyes almost glazed over as he remembered his vision. “I always see white wings. They’re sewn onto the back of a jacket or something.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he exchanged a look with Sam.

“Daryl’s vest," he said. “You’ve been seeing Daryl.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Shane interjected. Both Rick and Shane looked completely confused.

“Yeah,” Rick added. “You lost me at visions.”

“Sorry,” Sam said quickly, “We’ll explain later, but I think for now we should get the others in here.”

“Right,” Chuck agreed. “I’ll send Jesse with you. He’ll show you the entrance.”

Dean grinned and gave Jesse, who was still watching them from afar, a cocky wave.

Jesse gave Dean a glare in return.

"Stop making friends, Dean," Sam sighed. "You're not very good at it." 

Dean grinned. “But I think he likes me, Sammy.”

* * *

 

“Alright, tell me everything that’s going on,” Chuck said, settling back into his chair, a cup of thin tea clasped in his hands.

Dean nodded slowly, giving Rick and the others a quick glance.

He really didn’t want to tell Chuck about all the crap that had happened to him and Sam with everyone else listening, but what choice did he have? Chuck expected answers and so did Rick. Dean had to admit that Rick had been trust worthy so far and deserved to know the truth. 

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “You remember Zach, the douchebag, right?”

Chuck gave a nervous chuckle, “How could I forget. The guy came into my house trying to get you boys.”

“Right. Well, he’s still looking for us. They…” Dean paused. “Sam and I…we didn’t say ‘yes’. We’ve been holding out for months now. I guess the angels got sick of waiting because they allowed the Croation virus to spread.”

Chuck stopped Dean there. “Allowed it? They didn’t start it?”

Sam shook his head. “No, that wasn’t the angels doing. It was the Devil’s.”

There was a shocked murmur from Rick and his people.

“The Devil?” Lori spoke up.

“Wow, Sam…” Dean mumbled, rubbing his face with a hand. “Mr. Subtle.”

Glenn raised his hand. Dean’s lips twitched as if he wanted to smile at the action, but he didn’t.

“Yes, you in the back," he said pointing to Glenn.

“So, are we talking the Devil, as in _the_ Devil?” 

Sam nodded, grimly. “Yes, we are. Look…we didn’t tell you the whole truth about us or about the apocalypse.”

Dean stood up from his seat suddenly and shook his head warningly at Sam.

“Sammy…don’t you dare.”

Sam shot Dean a glare.

“They deserve to know,” Sam insisted, also getting to his feet. He stared Dean down, while the rest of the group watched in silence at the brothers standing toe-to-toe. 

“No, they don’t. Not the part that you’re thinking of telling them,” Dean snapped, jabbing a finger at Sam's broad chest. 

“Shut up, Dean. I’m not twelve anymore! Stop trying to protect me,” Sam retorted.

Hurt flickered across Dean's face before going stone hard. Sam winced, realizing how harsh his words sounded. He reached a hand out to his brother.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that…”

Dean shrugged Sam’s hand off his shoulder, brushing past Sam.

“Whatever.” 

Dean paused by the door, looking back. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, but he frowned and turned on his heel, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

 

 Dean sighed and stopped in the middle of the muddy road. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky. The wind gently caressed his face and ran its fingers through his short hair.

Dean knew that he was being a wuss. He knew that Sam wasn’t a child anymore and he didn’t need his big brother to take care of him anymore, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t sting to hear Sam say it.

Dean opened his eyes again and eyed the sky that was threatening to let out a torrent of rain soon.

He looked around the circle of houses that had been built around the muddy road. Dean saw the familiar tan trench coat form standing near a tree, but he didn’t want to talk to Castiel at the moment. All Castiel would do is listen gravelly and not say much of anything. Dean didn’t want to face that steely of gaze of Castiel's; he knew all he would see is his faults reflected back to him and he couldn't handle that right now.

Dean’s eyes landed on the RV that had been parked on the other side of the road opposite of Castiel.

With a sudden determination, Dean began marching toward it. He wanted to see Daryl.

Dean desperately hoped that Daryl was awake. Whatever had happened to his friend terrified him. Daryl was the only one from the group that Dean knew had his back. Sure Rick agreed with him sometimes, but he was too busy trying to please everyone, when Daryl knew what needed to be done and did it.

Dean had to admit that he probably would get along better with Shane if he wasn’t such a dick because Shane also knew what needed to be done. He just didn’t go about it in the best way.  

Dean hesitantly knocked on the flimsy white door. There was a moment of silence from inside, but Dean knew that Carol was in there watching over his friend and the two kids.

“Who is it?” Came the soft question.

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s Dean. Can I come in?”

There was a muffled sound and then the door opened and Carol stood in front of him. She nodded and motioned for him to come in.  

Dean gratefully stepped up and into the RV.

He stood awkwardly by the door for a moment, before Carol nodded to the back area of the RV, where Daryl had been put.

“How’s he doing?” Dean asked quietly.

Carol didn’t say anything, but she shook her head worriedly.

Dean swallowed and made his way through the small hall to Daryl’s side. He was vaguely aware of Carol closing the door behind him, giving him some privacy.

“Shit…” Dean mumbled, seeing Daryl’s motionless form lying limply on the cot. He sat on a stool that had been placed by Daryl’s head. Dean guessed that Carol had been sitting on it, watching over the sleeping man.

“Daryl?” Dean said softly. “Hey, man. I, uh,” Dean cleared his throat, trying not to think about how weird and slightly creepy it was for him to be talking to a sleeping person. “I just wanted to see how you were doing," Dean finished lamely and stood up. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. Maybe he should just go.

A sudden movement from the bed attracted Dean’s attention. He stopped and leaned closer to Daryl, frowning.

Suddenly, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Daryl?” Dean cried, jerking back a few steps in surprise. “Are you okay? What happened?” The questions came out rapidly.

Daryl’s blue eyes flickered to Dean and his breathing came in short, rapid gasps.

“Dean?” he asked hoarsely. He blinked a few times, looking confused.

“Yeah, it’s me, buddy,” Dean said, going back to sit down on the stool. “What happened?” he repeated. “You gave us all a pretty good scare.”

Daryl's brow drew down into a frown, which made Dean smile slightly; that was more like the gruff hunter he knew.

“I gave ya a scare? _You_ assholes gave me a scare. I damn near shit mah pants,” Daryl said his voice growing stronger. He sat up in the bed, but leaned heavily against the wall of the RV.

Dean cocked his head to the side, confused. "What?" 

“Jus’ outta the blue yer eyes start glowin’. Then yer brother’s turn black an’ ta top it all off, fuckin’ Shane’s face completely changed inta some creepy shit,” Daryl continued still glaring at Dean, as if it was Dean’s fault for all the crazy stuff that Daryl was seeing.

“Hey, don’t look at me, brother,” Dean said raising his hands in defense. “I have no idea.” He didn't mention how very, very worried he was that Daryl had seen Sam's eyes turn black. That was something he didn't want to think about, much less deal with again. He would have to. Eventually. 

Daryl huffed in displeasure. He winced and raised a hand to his forehead.

“Damn," he muttered, shutting his eyes and massaging his temples.

Dean leaned forward, worried. “Are you okay?”

Daryl snorted. “I’m jus’ dandy, Winchester, thanks for askin’.”

Dean rolled his eyes, glad that Daryl seemed to be feeling more like himself, despite the headache that seemed to be bothering him.

The flimsy door that separated the tiny room from the rest of the RV opened and Carol poked her head in.

“I thought I heard voices…” she trailed off in surprise when she saw Daryl awake and sitting up.

In two rapid steps Carol was in the room and had shoved Dean out of the way so that she could hug Daryl tightly.

Dean chuckled as he saw Daryl’s face turn a deep red color.

“Jeez, woman, git off me,” Daryl mumbled, squirming under Carol’s tight embrace.

Carol finally released the redneck, a bright smile etched across her features.

“It’s good to see you awake, Daryl," she said, “I’m going to get you something to eat. You're probably starving.” Carol didn’t wait for a confirmation from Daryl before she had turned on her heel and had disappeared from sight.

Dean didn’t say anything to the embarrassed hunter, but a close lipped smile showed his amusement. Daryl narrowed his eyes at Dean and hiked the covers of the bed higher up on his chest.   

“Shut up," he snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dean shot back, grinning.

* * *

 

Dean exited the RV, a happy grin on his face. Though, the smile slipped off his face as he thought about what it meant if Sam's eyes were black again. Did that mean he was sucking demon blood again? That didn't seem likely, but as much as Dean didn't want to admit it, addicts couldn't be trusted. He'd have to keep a better eye on Sam. 

His thoughts were interrupted as a commotion broke out from Chuck’s hut. Dean shook his head, knowing that Sam had told the others all about opening up the gate for the Devil to come and walk the Earth. Apparently they weren’t taking it very well.

He quickened his pace so that he stood at Chuck’s door in a matter of seconds. Dean shot a quick look around, trying to see where Castiel went; he could use the angel if something happened. But Castiel had disappeared. Dean let out a frustrated hiss and shoved the door open, stepping inside.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but when they did, Dean didn’t like what he saw.

Shane stood in front of the others, facing Sam and Chuck, a finger jabbing at Sam’s chest. He had a furious look on his face, if a little confused about everything he had just heard. 

“Whoa, whoa," Dean said striding forward. He shoved his way between Sam and Shane. “Easy there, cowboy.”

Shane’s eyes flickered to Dean’s face and for a moment Dean thought back to what Daryl had said about Shane’s face morphing into something different. He pushed that aside when Shane started talking.

“Let me get this straight, Winchester,” Shane said. “Your brother here was jus’ tellin’ us abou’ how it was you boys that opened up some gate an’ let the Devil out, which started this whole mess. Is that the truth?” The last part came out less aggressive than when Shane had started out. His face lost its anger and confusion sparked in his eyes.

“As much as I would like to lie to you and tell you it wasn’t us that started this…I can’t,” Dean said finally. Sam was right. Maybe it was time that the group knew the truth.

Dean couldn’t look at any of the others in the face and his eyes were trained on his scuffed boots. “It was us. It’s our fault that this virus is spreading. All of it is our fault.” Dean’s voice grew quiet. He risked a quick glance up at the others, trying to gauge their reactions.

Most of them looked confuse, but Shane’s face was beginning to grow dark and angry again.

“What?” Shane said sharply. “All of this...” Shane threw an arm out, gesturing around the rundown house. “…shit is your fault.” Sam stepped forward, trying to brush past Dean. There was an ugly frown on his face.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? It’s _my_ fault,” Sam insisted. “Dean didn’t have much to with it.” The words sounded lame, even to Sam, who winced. 

Dean gave an incredulous chuckle and turned his head to look around at Sam. “Are you forgetting who broke the first seal?” Dean snapped. They had just talked about this. Why was Sam insisting on shouldering all the blame?

“Stop it, Dean. Who held out for forty years? No one could have done that. You’ve got to let it go.”

“Well, so do you!” Dean shot back, turning all the way around so that his back was to Rick’s group.

The two brothers stared at each other, waiting for the other to back down. Shane, for once, knew when to keep his mouth shut and waited for the Winchesters to acknowledge them again.

“Dean…” Same mumbled, his face pained.

Dean frowned and spun around again.

“There. You all know all this is to know about us," he said angrily to Rick and his people. “Does it make you want to run and hide from us now? Because I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” No one said anything. “People around us always get hurt and end up dying. So I’d run while you have the chance,” Dean finished abruptly and spun on his heel, meaning to march out of the shack again.

“Dean!” Rick called out, pushing his way past Shane. “Wait. Come back here.”

Dean stopped, his back still facing the others.

“You may not think much of yourself, but…” Rick stopped for a moment when Dean snorted at the comment. “But, I think that you’re a good man.” He glanced at Sam. “Your brother too. If you say that this whole walker mess is your fault, then so be it, but I don’t think you would ever wish this upon anyone and I can see how much you’re trying to make up for it. I mean, you got us this far and I know that you’re the type of man that would gladly give his life if it meant his friends and family would live.” Rick stopped again. “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester. Remember that.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this update took a while because real life was kicking my ass.   
> Also, I realized (after a rewatch of season five) that when Dean went back in time he started out in Kansas, but the camp was actually in South Dakota (probably near Bobby's place) so I had to go back and make a few changes about that. But this also meant that I couldn't ignore Bobby any longer, so the whole first part is brand new.   
> Lastly, I feel like the characters are starting to get a little OOC and I'm sorry about that. I'm trying to change it, but it's hard because I wrote this so long ago and everything is a certain way in order for the story to work. But yeah. Let me know what you all thought.   
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from: P_Alyese and Spike.


	13. Wake Up, Son of Mine

**[Wake Up, Son of Mine]**

 

 “Hey, Dean.”

Dean glanced over to his right, where Sam had his nose poked into their Dad’s worn journal. Other books that they had borrowed from Bobby also lay scattered on top of Sam’s bed.  

“Yeah?” Dean said.

Sam pulled his head up from the journal, his hair hanging over his eyes. He swiped at the bangs absently. 

“This monster that’s killing our people…I think I might have an idea of what it is.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Just like? I’m impressed, Sammy.”

Sam's cheeks reddened slightly at the praise and he gave Dean a genuine smile before he coughed and flipped a page in the journal before sticking his finger in between the pages, holding his place. 

“So this monster is by passing our lookouts," Sam started, straightening and leaning towards his brother. "That can mean a few different things. First, the monster is quick and quiet so our people don’t see it. Or," he paused for a beat before continuing. "second, our lookouts were comfortable with the monster coming up to them.”

Dean frowned. “What? What do you mean? That wouldn’t make any sense. Why would our people be okay with a freakin’ monster coming up to them and then tearing their insides out?”

“I think that we know them,” Sam said slowly. His eyes flickered down to the journal as if wanting to confirm that he had read the right information before catching Dean's gaze again. 

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, snagging the journal out of Sam’s hands. He peered at the pages and then looked back up at Sam, with his eyebrows raised and an incredulous look on his face.

“What are you saying, Sammy? You think we’re dealing with ghouls?” Dean shuddered thinking back to their hunt in Minnesota with Adam. That hadn't been the best experience he'd ever had, and he had been to hell. “What would they be doing here? Why are they following us?”

Sam shrugged, raking a hand through his hair. “Look around us, Dean. We’re living in a all day buffet for ghouls. There's an unlimited amount of food for them and they don’t even need to dig it up anymore.”

Dean grimaced. "Gross." It did make sense in a way; the Croats were easy picking for the ghouls. He closed the journal with a snap and sat back against the headboard of his bed. “Okay, but why are they attacking the living?"

“Maybe they want fresh meat?”

Dean made a face. “Ugh. Freakin’ ghouls.” He shot a look through the stained window in their room, rubbing a thumb across the side of his mouth thoughtfully. “Ghouls can take the form of the last person they killed, right? So…it could be anyone in our group.” 

Sam shook his head. “Not true. I doubt it’s anyone from the original group or else more of them would have been dying before we joined.”

The brothers fell silent and then Dean spoke, “Its Maggie and Hershel.”

Sam frowned.

“Think about it, Sam. They were the only two that aren’t part of the original group; I found them in the woods with Castiel. We don’t know a thing about them other than their farm was overrun. And right after they joined us Dale died. It’s gotta be them.”

* * *

 “Rick,” Dean said, beckoning the man with his hand. Rick spilt off the group and walked up to Dean and Sam.

“What’s up, boys?” he asked, lowering his voice when he saw the seriousness in both Sam and Dean’s eyes.

“Look,” Sam said, “We think we know what’s killing your people.”

Rick’s eyes widened a bit. “Can you kill it?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes. The only problem is…” he stopped.

“What?” Rick asked, looking back and forth from Sam to Dean. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Sam stated.

Rick shrugged, resting a hand on his gun. "I don't much like the walkers." 

They couldn't argue with that. 

“We think the monsters are ghouls.” Dean held up a hand to stop Rick from saying anything. “The thing about ghouls is they take the form of the person they last ate.”

Rick frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that it could be anyone,” Sam put in.

“But,” Dean said, stopping Rick’s inevitable outburst. “We think we know who it is.”

Rick's lips tightened and he waited. 

“We think that it’s Maggie and Hershel.”

Rick threw a glance over his shoulder at the two mentioned people that were chatting with the rest of the group.

“Why them?”

“Because they’re new,” Dean said. “The attacks didn’t start until after they arrived. It’s gotta be them.”

Rick swallowed. “Alright," he said. “How do we kill them.”

“Sam and I will kill them.” Dean said, gesturing between his brother and him. “I was thinking that we lay a trap for them." 

“Why not just kill them?" Rick asked. 

"We need to be sure," Sam said. "We don't want to kill two innocents on a hunch." 

Rick nodded, glad that the boys weren't going to run around killing his people because they believed in monsters. "What's the trap?" Rick said. 

“We use me as bait,” Sam said. “It’s been two days since they last ate. They’ll need to feed soon.”

“But don’t they know about you boys being hunters?” Rick said slowly, thinking over the problem. “I don’t know anything about ghouls, but Maggie and Hershel seem human to me. They have thoughts and memories. You boys told us a lot about yourselves; about being hunters. Won’t they know about you and not take the bait?”

The Winchesters were silent; they hadn’t thought about that.

“You’re right.” Dean said quietly. “Dammit.” 

“It’s gotta be me, then,” Rick said. “I’ll be the bait.”

Sam was about to protest, but Dean cut him off.

“Perfect. They won’t suspect you, or at least they shouldn’t.”  

Sam angrily nudged Dean with his shoulder, giving him a glare. Dean frown back and for a moment the two brothers fought silently before Dean sighed and turned back to Rick. 

“You know that this is going to be dangerous. You could die. We can't ask you to do that." 

Rick let out a mirthless laugh. “Son, we could die every day. At least I would be dying to protect my people.”

* * *

 

 Rick sat alone around the small fire that he had built near the RV. He had made everyone else go to bed, saying that he wanted to be alone. He had his gun strapped to his belt and a knife down by his boots. Rick knew that Sam and Dean were nearby, but he couldn’t see them. He also knew that they would protect him. They would do whatever they could to protect him and to save the group. 

He had only been sitting for about twenty minutes when a sound attracted his attention. His already strained nerves sky rocketed as Hershel came into view, giving Rick a smile.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

Rick shrugged, trying not to think of Hershel as a person, but as a monster. A monster that would kill him without a second thought. 

“It’s a nice night,” Hershel commented after a moment.

Rick nodded, but didn't say anything.

Hershel looked past Rick’s shoulder, his eyes glinting in the fire light.  The hairs on the back of Rick’s neck stood up and his hand grazed the butt of his pistol. 

Before he had time to react, strong hands gripped Rick’s head, pulling it back so that his throat was exposed. A strangled yelp tore from Rick's mouth as he struggled in the unyielding embrace of the monster.  He was slammed onto the gravel, stones digging into his back, and a heavy boot of one of the monsters pressed down against his chest, keeping him in place. 

Two heads hovered over him and Rick could make out the faces of Maggie and Hershel; the Winchesters had been correct in thinking that the monsters were indeed the two from the “farm.” Maggie dropped down to Rick's side. 

“Hold still,” Maggie hissed, not sounding like the girl that he had met only a few days ago. She gripped his arms, while Hershel knelt down, his hands reaching out for Rick’s neck.

“We’ll make it quick for you,” Hershel said. “You won’t feel a thing. Trust me.”

Rick barred his teeth, struggling in the monsters’ grips. Where the hell were the Winchesters?

Hershel threw a quick glance around the empty lot, before he started to lower his mouth to Rick’s neck. 

There was a loud pop and Hershel’s head snapped forward, spraying blood over Rick and Maggie. Hershel's body slumped forward, covering Rick in its heavy embrace. 

Maggie screamed and leapt away from Rick. The ghoul backpedaled on her hands and knees, but not quick enough. There was a second pop and Maggie’s head exploded in a burst of blood, stopping her flight. She lay face first on the gravel, blood soaking the grey rocks. 

Rick heaved the body off him and got to his feet, wiping the blood off his face with one hand. He gave a nod to Dean and Sam, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. They nodded back, each putting their guns back into their belts.

Not one of them said a word; there was no need to.

* * *

 

It would be difficult to explain to the rest of the group why Maggie and Hershel were now dead, killed by the Winchesters. Though Rick, obviously, believed Sam and Dean about the monsters, the others seemed a bit more skeptical. So Rick didn’t explain. He merely told the others that Maggie and Hershel had been bitten before they had gotten to the enclosed fence and had gone haywire. Sam and Dean put them down. The group accepted Rick's words without question. 

* * *

 

Dean jerked awake, his hand shooting under his pillow where he kept his silver knife. He blinked rapidly, taking in his surroundings. There was a soft snore from somewhere in the depths of the room. Dean’s green eyes took in Sam’s curled form on the bed opposite from his. Dean relaxed and let his head fall back against his pillows. He tried to push away the remains of his dream that clung to his mind, but without much luck.

With an irritated sigh, Dean shoved back his covers and swung his legs over his bed. He stood up, taking his knife and 1911 off the nightstand. Dean stuck them into his waistband and pulled on his leather jacket and boots. 

He made his way through the room to the door, the floor creaking under his boots.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was rough with sleep.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean commanded quietly. Sam obeyed and let his eyes droop.

Once outside, Dean was unsure where to go. Everyone from Rick’s group was sleeping, and he didn’t feel like talking to Jesse’s men that patrolled the fence line. Not that he felt like talking much at all at this blasphemous hour of the morning.

“Dean.”

Dean spun around at the sound of his name.

“Cas,” he said, relaxing his grip on the gun under his jacket. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Castiel inclined his head. “I am sorry if I startled you.”

Dean shrugged at his dark haired friend, putting his hands into his pockets and looking out to the slowly rising sun.

“What are you doing away at this hour?” Castiel asked, cocking his head to the side like he did when he didn’t understand something.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean replied shortly, leaning against the side of the house that he and Sam shared.

Castiel didn’t say anything, merely waiting for Dean to say something more.

“Bad dream,” Dean admitted after a few moments of silence.

“What did you dream of?” Castiel asked, remembering from somewhere that humans liked to talk about their dreams. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Dean sent an amused smirk to Castiel, a knowing look in his eye, but he turned serious as his thoughts went to his dream.

“Sam was dying,” Dean said slowly, glancing over to his friend. “You were dying too.”

Castiel’s face remained impassive.

“In fact,” Dean said quietly, “Everyone was dying. We were all burning alive and there was nothing I could do to save us.” Dean was silent for a moment. “I failed everyone, Cas. Everyone who counted on me. I let them all down and we died.”

Castiel took a hesitant step forward; he put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean. It is not your job to save everyone.”

Dean didn’t look at Castiel, his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. Castiel sighed silently; he knew that Dean didn’t believe him.

“It _is_ my job,” Dean said gruffly. “Saving people, hunting things…protecting Sammy.” He looked back at Castiel. “I have to do it. Saving people is my mission; my job.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Nothing he could say would ever convince Dean otherwise.

Dean frowned as he looked at his friend, holding his gaze. He understood what Castiel was saying, but he couldn’t accept that. Even now he could hear his father’s orders ringing through his head. _“It’s our job to save them, son, all of them.”_

Dean cleared his throat and forced a fake smile onto his face.

“Thanks anyway, Cas. I’ll keep that in mind.” Dean turned and started to walk away.

Castiel watched as the sun rose a little higher, shining its light on Dean retreating form. From where he stood, Castiel could see Dean’s stooped shoulders, and he knew that the weight of the world rested on those shoulders.

* * *

 

Daryl winced as he walked along the fence line. He wasn’t quite healed from the wendigo attack and from whatever crazy shit had happened to his head, but he wasn’t going to stay in the damned RV anymore. He was going stir crazy staring at the peeling ceiling. Daryl didn’t dare look anywhere else because he knew that he would be met with worried faces of various members of their group, coming in to check on him. 

The cool morning breeze brushed back his hair, and Daryl felt a small smile tug at his lips. It was good to be outside again.

There was a crunch of gravel ahead of him, and Daryl’s crossbow snapped up. 

Daryl released the breath that he had sucked in; it was just Dean.

“Hey,” Daryl called out lowly.

Dean’s head jerked up, and Daryl could see Dean’s hand down by his gun in his belt.

“Hey,” Dean echoed. “What are you doing up?”

Daryl shrugged, coming forward, until both men stood face to face.

“Couldn’ stay in that RV any longer.”

Dean nodded his understanding before he looked around the empty yard that they stood in; no one else was awake yet. 

Daryl glanced out past the fence and then said slowly, “I was thinkin’ abou’ goin’ hunting. We could use some meat.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. “I’ll help.”

Daryl frowned, shaking his head. “Nah, I move better own my own. You’d jus’ slow me down.”

Dean snorted. “Dude, I hunt _monsters_ for a living. If I slow down on a hunt then I'm dead. I won't slow you down.”

Daryl felt his lips twitch into a brief grin. He shrugged, giving Dean his permission.

Dean returned the grin. “Just let me go get my rifle.”

* * *

 

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked, walking toward Rick and Shane.

Rick glanced over at Sam and frowned slightly.

“I haven’t seen him. Daryl’s gone too. He must have left early this morning." Rick paused. "I wouldn't worry, Sam, they can take care of themselves--Hey,” Rick called catching sight of Lori and Carol walking by, their arms full of laundry. “Have you ladies see Dean or Daryl?”

Lori shook her head, but Carol nodded.

“I saw Daryl leave this morning, and when I got up to make sure that he wasn’t doing something stupid, I saw him talking to Dean. A few minutes after that, they both started to walk away. They looked like they might have gone hunting.”

Rick turned back to Sam. “See," he said. “They’ll be back soon with meat in tow.” He gave Sam a reassuring smile. 

“Thanks, Rick,” Sam said, looking relieved.

* * *

 

“Walkers!” The scream rang out in the open courtyard, freezing everyone to their place.

Sam felt his heart speed up and begin to beat wildly in his chest. Shit like this always seemed to happen when Dean was gone. 

Four walkers were lumbering toward the different members of the group, and Sam could see more following behind them. Where had they coming from?

A shot rang out and one of the walkers dropped to the ground, a bullet now buried in its head.

The shot jarred the rest of them into action and Sam rushed forward, his hand pulling out the knife down in his belt. He slashed upward at one of the walker’s faces. The face split open and blood poured from the wound. With another quick jab, Sam dispatched the walker.

“There’s gotta be a hole in the fence,” Sam called, glancing over to where Rick was fighting next to him.

“I checked the fence myself.” Rick snapped anger in his voice; they had thought this was a safe place.

“I’ll go,” Sam said and started to move around the oncoming walkers. They were ignoring him for the moment, focused on getting to the others.

Sam caught Glenn’s eye as the young man dispatched several of the walkers with his screwdriver.

“Glenn,” Sam yelled. “Get the rope from the RV and follow me.”

Glenn gave Sam a grim nod and turned on his heel to do as Sam commanded.

Sam’s breath came in short gasps as he ran to were all the croats were pouring from. He would stab them in the face when they came to close to him, but Sam wanted to find the hole in the fence and take care of that before he went back to help Rick and the others.

Sam swore as he neared the edge of the fence line. There was a gaping hole that had been obviously cut. There was even some sort of animal guts that had been smeared near it, in hopes of luring the creatures to the fence. Whoever had done this had planned it carefully and had wanted to kill some, if not all of them. 

There weren’t many croats near the fence at the moment, but Sam knew that it could change quickly; he needed to get the hole closed before anymore got through.

“Glenn,” Sam shouted, looking back over his shoulder. He could see Glenn hurrying toward him, rope and what looked like a chain slung over his shoulder.

There was a sudden growl behind him causing Sam to spin around. A croat was standing directly behind him with his arms outstretched and his jaw snapping. Sam backpedaled in panic, tripping over a stray log. He landed with a thud onto his back; his knife flying out of his hand. Sam rolled onto his stomach scrambling for his weapon. Panic clawed inside his chest as Sam reached for his knife that was sitting a few inches from his fingertips.

Something grabbed at his leg, and Sam looked over his shoulder seeing the croat tugging at his leg with his rotting hands. Sam’s foot snapped out, kicking the thing in the head. It fell back from the force of the blow, giving Sam enough time to grip his knife. He scrambled to his feet, the knife clutched in his hand. He turned to face the monster, and his eyes widened in horror seeing more croats stumbling toward him.

He gritted his teeth and surged forward to deal with the first one. Sam leaned down and plunged his weapon into the thing’s head. Dark blood spurted up, hitting Sam in the face, blinding him. Sam almost dropped his knife again, trying to scrub the blood from his eyes. Within seconds, he was able to see again, but he was a second too late.

Another croat had come through the hole and had stumbled its way to Sam. The monster’s teeth sank into Sam’s forearm, blood gushed up from the wound.

Sam screamed in pain and rage, taking his knife and jamming it into the croat’s head. The thing fell away from him as he stumbled back a few steps, his arm bleeding freely.

“Sam!” Glenn’s voice came through the blur of pain and horror. Sam’s head jerked around and he saw Glenn nearing him with the rope.

Sam’s face hardened and he reached down pulling his sleeve down over the wound; no one could know that he had been bitten. He would wait for Dean to get back and they would figure out what to do; his big brother would know how to fix this.

“Sam, look out!” Glenn shouted bringing Sam back to the present. 

Sam jerked around again and saw another monster approaching. He quickly killed it with his knife and then turned back to face Glenn.

“Move your ass,” he snarled, snatching the chain from Glenn’s shoulder.

Sam went to the fence, killing croats as he walked. With every beat of his heart his arm throbbed, reminding him that his time was limited. If the others found out that he had been bitten; they would kill him with no hesitation. 

* * *

 

Sam slowly trudged to the rest of the group with Glenn by his side. He arm was hanging limply by his side, and he could feel hot blood sliding down his fingers tips as he walked. 

“I think the others took care of the walkers that got in,” Glenn said. He looked back over his shoulder to check the hole in the fence that they had taken care of. Walkers gathered around it; bouncing into it as they tried to get in.

Glenn reached his arm up above his head and waved at Rick, who was still where they had left him. Rick gave them a grim nod and nudged one of the walkers that he had killed with his boot.

“Did you take care of it?” Shane asked when Glenn and Sam stood in front of them.

"Yeah," Glenn said tiredly. 

Sam ignored the others and craned his neck, looking for Dean. His heart sank when he didn’t see Dean’s familiar face among the others.

Rick edged closer to Sam, a small smile on his blood splattered face.

“Dean isn’t here yet. Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon.” He reached his hand out and patted Sam on his arm.

Sam gave a muffled yelp and jerked away from Rick; his other hand automatically going to his wound.

"Sam,” Rick said, concern coloring his voice. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“Nothing," Sam grunted tensely. The others couldn’t find out about the bit. He had to wait for Dean before he would tell them.

Rick frowned and stalked forward. Sam weakly batted at Rick’s hand, but that didn’t stop Rick. He wrenched open Sam’s sleeve, relieving the bloody wound in Sam’s arm.

“He’s been bit,” Rick barked, back pedaling away from Sam.

The reaction from the rest of the group was instantaneous. There was a loud outcry from the men, while the women backed away from the Winchester.

Shane ran forward and wrapped his big arms around Sam’s shoulders, stopping Sam from going anywhere.

“We’ve got to kill him,” Andrea said coming forward. Her voice held no emotion and her hand was fingering the gun in her belt. “He’s already dead," she added, coming to a stop next to Rick. “You know there’s nothing we can do.”

Rick looked sickened, but he slowly nodded and swallowed; it had to be done to protect the rest of his people. 

Shane's grip tightened on Sam, who had seen the change on Rick’s face and begun to struggle in earnest.

“No! You don’t understand, don’t do this!”

Rick sadly shook his head and pulled out his python pistol. “I’m sorry, Sam. You know I don’t want to do this, but it’s the only way.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, thinking maybe it was better this way. Maybe, by killing him, Rick was going to save the world. 

A sudden voice rang out. “What the hell is going on here?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open and Rick’s face fell. He pulled his pistol back down to his side. 

Dean came striding up, Daryl close on his heels. Dean’s face was hard and he had a rifle resting on one shoulder. Rick knew without a doubt that Dean was prepared to use that rifle on them if it meant saving his brother.

“Dean,” Rick started, but Dean didn't wait for an explanation before shoving Rick away from Sam.

Daryl hovered between both men, a torn look on his face. He didn’t know whether he should be helping Dean or Rick. His loyalty to both men was screaming at him to help them both.

“Daryl,” Shane said, his eyes landing on the hunter. “This isn’t what it looks like. Walkers got through the camp. One of the monsters took a bite outta Sam. We don’t wanta kill him, but it’s got to be done. You know that.”

Daryl’s blue eyes slowly hardened. His words from so long ago echoed through his mind; _zero tolerance for walker._

“Daryl?” Dean said slowly. His face fell briefly before hardening again. “You don’t understand. None of you do!" He paused to reign his temper back in. "It doesn’t matter if Sam gets bit, bled on or all of the above. He won’t turn.” Dean turned to face all of them, though his free hand was resting on Sam's unbitten arm. “Don’t do this," Dean continued. "This happened before, and Sam didn't turn.”  Dean let his mask fall, trying to get them to understand his words. 

No one said a word, though many of them gave Dean sympathetic looks before turning their gazes away from the brothers.

Dean’s lips tightened and he glared at them. 

“If you touch him, I will kill you," he growled.

No one doubted his words.

Dean turned to Shane. “That means you, asshole. Let him go.”

Shane glared back at Dean and shook his head.

“Not gonna happen.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and locked eyes with Sam. He gave his brother a small nod, and Sam’s head snapped back, smashing into Shane’s face. Shane reeled back, his hands going to his face.

Dean pulled Sam away from Shane, gripping his shoulders. He ignored everyone else for a second as he checked his brother over.

“Where’d it get you?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam held up his arm, showing Dean the bloody mark.

Dean’s eyes softened and he reached his hand out to clasp the wound. Sam hissed at the touch.

“Shh, you big baby," Dean said softly.

“Dean,” Rick said. “You have to let him go. I know he’s your brother, but he’s dying and there’s nothing we can do.”

Dean looked over his shoulder to glare at Rick.

“He’s right, Dean,” Daryl said lowly.

Dean’s glare turned to Daryl.

“Both of you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean snapped. “He’s immune!" 

No one said anything, but their disbelief was evident. 

Dean let out a growl and let go of Sam's shoulders. He shoved his brother behind him, fully facing the group. 

“I’ll say it again.” Dean barked, “You touch my brother, and I’ll kill you.”       

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait with this chapter! Hope you all enjoy it!   
> Thanks for the comments from: P_Alyese and AshleyJinxxBiersack.


	14. When Death Comes Knocking

**[When Death Comes knocking]**

 

“Dean, maybe it’s for the best,” Sam said quietly.

Dean’s head swiveled around so that he could glare at his brother.

“Shut your mouth. Don’t _you_ start talking like that.”

“But maybe I should die,” Sam insisted sitting up on his bed. He winced as the movement jostled his bitten arm. “But think about it. With me gone then the Devil doesn’t have a vessel.”

"And what? The Devil will put the world back in order? Get rid of the Croats and we'll all be okay again? I don't think so," Dean said. "Besides the angels will only bring you back. Just like when Roy and Walt tried to blow us away; they brought us back to life because they need us." 

Sam’s face fell and he sank back down onto his pillows, wincing as his arm was pressed into the thin mattress. He shifted his position, carefully putting his arm over his stomach. 

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, concern coloring his voice. He moved from the window to the edge of his own bed, staring at Sam with anxious eyes. Dean reached out and picked up Sam’s arm, as if he could somehow make the pain go away by holding his brother’s arm. He examined the wound, his eyes narrowing in anger at the damn Croat that dared take a bite out of his brother. 

“I’m fine,” Sam said, pulling his arm out of Dean’s grasp. He brought his wounded arm to his chest and rolled over to his side so that his back was facing Dean. “I’ll be fine. You said it yourself, I can’t turn. I’m immune. So quit worrying about me.”

Dean took a few steps back from the bed, trying to hide the hurt in his eyes. 

“Yeah," he said. “Get some rest. I’m going to go outside and try to talk some sense into the others.”

Dean opened the door, but paused on the threshold. “Keep your gun close, Sammy. I've got a bad feeling about this whole situation." 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, Winchester, but you’re being a damn fool,” Shane said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “We all know that Sam is going to turn and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Dean shot a withering look at Shane before turning his attention back to Rick.

“I know you all think that I’m making a mistake about Sam, that I’m being too emotional--,”

“Because you are,” Shane interjected.

“But, you have to understand that I know what I’m doing," Dean continued, ignoring Shane. "Sam and I have known about this world much longer than any of you. We’ve come across this virus before. It was in a small town in Rivergrove, Oregon.” Dean paused to look at the three men standing in front of him; the rest of the group was waiting near the RV, getting dinner of some kind ready. “The whole town was infected, and they got Sam. I was going to put him down then too.”

“You should have. It would have saved us a lot of trouble,” Shane said.

Dean shifted so that he was facing Shane.

“If you say another word, I will finish what I started back at that highway. Do you understand me?”

Shane stared back at Dean, his lips thinning. He wasn't afraid of Dean, but he knew that Dean would be true to his word and he didn't really want to get into another fist fight with the man.

“But I couldn’t kill my own brother,” Dean started again as if there had been no interruption. “I stayed with him that whole night, and he never turned. He was fine.”

Dean looked at Rick, Daryl and Shane in turn. “And he will be fine this time too. I know he will.”

Rick rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. He threw a glance at Shane and Daryl, frowning slightly. It was clear that Shane believed Sam should be put down. Daryl clearly trusted Dean and wanted to believe him, but everything that they had seen up to this point told all of them that Sam was going to turn and be put down. And for that reason Rick wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to kill Sam and Dean was right; he knew more about this world than any of them. 

“Alright,” Rick said slowly, nodding. “We’ll see how Sam’s doing in the morning, and if he starts to get sick, there won't be another discussion.”

Dean frowned. “This isn’t your town, Grimes.” He raised a calming hand as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “But I will put Sam down myself it he starts to change. You have my word.” Dean's mouth curled at the promise, but he knew that he wouldn't have to keep it because Sam would get better. 

* * *

 

Night was falling quickly and Daryl couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

He hadn’t agreed with Dean concerning Sam, and still didn’t. Dean could try to convince them all he wanted, but he wouldn’t change the fact that the younger Winchester had been bitten by a walker and going to turn.

Daryl huffed out an annoyed breath. He got to his feet, leaving the crackling fire near the RV.

“Where are you going, Daryl?” Carol asked, as her soft eyes following him.

“Takin’ a walk,: he muttered over his shoulder, swinging his crossbow up to rest on his back.

“Shouldn’t you take someone with you?” Carol persisted, getting to her feet as if she was going to go with him herself. 

Daryl's eyes narrowed and swiveled his head around to glare at the slight woman. She wilted under his annoyed gaze, and slowly sat back down as Rick gently touched her arm. He shot an annoyed look at Daryl, but the hunter was already disappearing into the night. 

Daryl felt a pang of guilt before he brushed it away and continued on his way. He tried to reason that the woman was too nosy for her own good, and he was sick of it, but if he was being honest with himself he just wanted to take his anger out on someone and she was the easiest one to do so. 

Daryl paused for a moment, placing his hand out to grip the side of the fence. Daryl put his other hand to his head, which had suddenly begun to pound. He leaned heavily against the fence suddenly as the pain in his head increased. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sudden pain. What was going on? 

“Daryl?” A voice came through the fog of pain.

Daryl looked up through the tears that were squeezing from his eyes.

“Dean…” he mumbled. He slowly let himself sink to the ground with his back pressed against the fence. His crossbow dug into his back, but Daryl hardly noticed the discomfort. 

A pair of hands gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Daryl, are you okay, man?” Dean’s voice was worried and tight with fear.

“M’good,” Daryl responded, trying to shrug off the hands. “Jus’ a little lightheaded.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m good.” Daryl said stronger, as the pain began to fade just as quickly as it had come. “Git off me," he snapped, as his head abruptly cleared. Daryl shoved at Dean’s hands, scrambling to his feet.

Dean also got to his feet, still concerned. His hands fell limply down to his sides. 

“What happened?” he asked. “You didn’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Daryl lied, knowing that he really wasn’t fine. These headaches weren’t normal and if he was being honest they scared him.

“Look,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Daryl with a stern look. “I know that you don’t agree with me about Sam, but you’ve got to trust me, okay? I know what I’m talking about when I say that he’s immune.” Clearly Dean had been looking for Daryl so he could try to convince him about Sam. Daryl didn't want to hear it anymore; no matter how many times Dean said it, it wasn't going to change the fact of Sam's impending death. 

“Wha’ever,” Daryl said, shoving past Dean. 

“Daryl, wait,” Dean called, coming after him.

The hunter ignored Dean and continued to walk away. He heard Dean let out an angry sigh behind him and then start to follow Daryl down the fence line.

“Wha’?” Daryl finally snapped, coming to an abrupt halt. He spun around on his heel so that he was facing Dean. "Wha’?” Daryl repeated.

Dean had almost run into Daryl's back when the other man had stopped so he backtracked a few feet away. He crossed his arms again, and shifted his stance. Clearly, he was ready for a good, long discussion. 

“Look, man―,” That was as far as Dean got. There was a loud scream from back towards the main part of the camp, causing immediate reaction from both Dean and Daryl. They spent a millisecond, exchanging confused looks before they took off running back to the others.

* * *

 

“What’s going on?” Dean yelled his pistol out and cocked.

Rick shot him a frantic look, gesturing with his hands. “There’s someone at the gate…they’re trying to get in.”

“What the hell?” Dean said brushing past Rick and heading to the main entrance. He vaguely saw Jesse and some of his lot following behind him. Dean also felt, rather than saw, Daryl next to his elbow keeping pace with him. Dean neared the gate, squinting through the darkness that had fallen over the camp. It looked like a group of men were trying to force their way through the heavily chained fence. 

“Who the hell are you?” he shouted to the gate, his voice reflecting his anger at the men before him. 

One of the men looked up and Dean frowned; he recognized that face.  

“Royce?” he said.

“Dean Winchester," the young hunter replied, a cocky grin on his lips. He looked over his shoulder and beckoned someone with a wave of his hand. “It sure is good to see a follow hunter. This group we’re with aren’t the smartest bunch; brutal though," he added.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Locke and me found this group a while back. They’ve been all over the place," the young man continued, ignoring Dean's question. 

“What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing. Here," Dean repeated slowly. His eyes glinted dangerously. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Royce swallowed, suddenly realizing what Payne had meant about Dean Winchester; he was a dangerous man.

“Look, man. Just wait for Payne to get here. He’ll explain.”

Dean raised his eyebrows; so that's where Payne had gotten to. "I don't have all night, boy." 

“Dean Winchester.” A voice came from behind Royce, who gladly got out of the way for Payne.

Payne moved close to the fence, looping his hands through the links. He gave Dean a thin smile. “We’re not here to harm you or anyone else. We just want your brother. If he dies, we might be able to save the world.”

“Excuse me?” Dean said sharply. “You want my brother? So you can, what, kill him?” Dean cocked his head to the side. “And I would let you do this, why? You know that anyone who touches my brother, dies. End of." 

Royce backed away from the gate; he had always wanted to see Dean in action, but he'd rather not be on the receiving end of it. He suddenly wished that he and Locke hadn't listened to Payne. 

"I'm only gonna say this once," Dean said, his voice lowering as he took a step towards Payne. "Stay away from me and Sam. Get as far away from us as possible because I promise, the next time I see you, I'm ending you. Do I make myself clear?" 

Payne didn’t seem fazed by Dean's harsh words. "You can't stop us, Dean. We’re coming in and taking him.” Payne turned his back on Dean and started to walk away, but he paused mid step. “And one other thing, Winchester, the men I’m with are going to take what they want when we get in." He flashed Dean a grin. "You’ve just signed your people to a painful death.”

As Payne faded into the darkness with the few men that had been hovered around the gate, Dean snarled and stalked to gate meaning to open it and beat Payne’s face bloody.

“Dean.” A voice cut through his anger and a hand grabbed his arm. “Stop! We’re not goin’ ta let them take yer brother.”

Dean registered who had grabbed his arm and turned to face Daryl. His gaze was still burning with anger, but Dean knew that Daryl was on his side again and that he would help Dean protect Sam and the others from the human monsters that lurked outside the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know this is a short chapter, but it felt like the right place to end it when I was writing this. Also, quick side-note, it's really weird re-reading and editing all this because all of these characters have changed so much since I first wrote this. Like, Carol? I mean, she's a complete badass these days, not the timid woman that we first saw. Crazy.   
> Anyway, thanks for all the kudos and comments from: AshleyJinxxBiersack, BranchSuper, and P_Alyese!


	15. The Screams all Sound the Same

**[The Screams all Sound the Same]**

 

 “What the hell," Shane snarled. “You mean to tell me that those people outside the gate are going to attack us just because they want Sam?”

Dean’s lips were set in a grim line and he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s right.”

“Then let’s give him to them,” Shane said, shifting his weight as if he meant to do exactly that.

Dean took a menacing step forward, one arm jutting out to stop Shane from even starting towards the cabin that Sam was staying at. 

“What’d you just say to me?” Dean demanded, hand still posed in front of him. “How many times do I have to say it? No one touches my brother!”

Shane took a step back, throwing his hands up in disgust. 

“Shane, cut it out,” Rick said. “No one’s taking Sam; we made Dean a promise.”

“Yeah…that promise just might get us all killed,” Shane muttered under his breath. He raked a heavy hand across his head. 

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, but decided to ignore Shane.

“Look, we can hold them,” Dean said, but even he didn't quite believe that. “It’s not just us now. We have Jesse and his men.” 

"That's not gonna be enough," Shane said. "And you know it." 

Dean shot a look at Shane before turned his gaze to Rick. He swallowed. “We can’t give them my brother.”

“I know that, Dean,” Rick said gently, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We would never do that. Sam is safe here.” 

* * *

 It was the burning that woke him. The smoke filled his nose and mouth, suffocating him. 

Sam sat upright in his bed, his eyes wide with panic as the orange flames began to lick at the wooden floorboards. It wouldn’t be long before the entire house was on fire.

Coughing harshly, Sam got to his feet. His eyes went to Dean’s bed, which was thankfully empty.

He staggered to the door, his arm still throbbing from the croat bite, and despite the circumstances, he felt much better after the rest that Dean had practically forced on him.  

Sam pushed at the door, expecting it to open immediately, but it didn’t. Sam frowned, trying to keep his rising panic down, and shoved his shoulder against the door again. It didn’t budge. The door was stuck or blocked by something on the outside.

* * *

 

It was quiet out by the gates. Too quiet in Dean’s opinion, but if the intruders didn’t attempt to break through tonight, that was fine with him. Once Sam was declared virus free in the morning he would have his brother back at his side where he belonged.

“Dean,” Daryl’s voice was low.

Dean glanced to his friend, who stood near Dean’s elbow, his crossbow clasped in his hands. “Something doesn’ feel righ’ here,” he said slowly, casting a glance around the front gate. “They can’ be stupid enough to try to come through our front door. They have to be plannin’ something else.”

Dean frowned, but nodded. “You’re right. I should have been thinking about that,” Dean muttered the last part to himself. Daryl was right of course; the enemy wouldn’t be stupid enough to come through the front gate.

“We have Jesse’s men patrolling around the fence line,” Dean added almost as an afterthought. It was odd for him to have more than two or three able men at his disposable to protect the camp. “But you and I should go 'round the fence, check the lines.” He jerked his chin, gesturing for Daryl to follow him away from the front gate.

“Keep an eye out,” Dean called over his shoulder to Rick and Shane, who both acknowledged him with a nod.

It was quiet along the fence line too; the only sound was the crunch of gravel under their feet as they walked.

Dean cleared his throat, keeping his head down. “Daryl? I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve stood by me even when I haven’t given you reason to. I know that you don’t agree with me about Sam, but you're still on my side," he paused. "You’re a good man, Daryl.”

There was a grunt of acknowledgement from Daryl and Dean hid his grin. Like himself before Sam turned him into a girl who shared their feelings with everyone, Daryl was still a closed, emotionless man.

Daryl suddenly stopped walking, his head coming up sharply. Dean stopped and turned to face Daryl.

“What is it?”

“Smoke,” Daryl said lowly, “I smell smoke.” His nostrils flared as he cast his eyes around the silent camp, looking for the source of the smoke. 

“There,” Daryl said suddenly, pointing toward the cluster of huts that were filled with Chuck’s people. There was an orange glow coming from one of the houses, casting a warm light on the surrounding areas.

Dean felt his stomach drop and his mouth go dry. “That’s our house…” he muttered through numb lips. “Sammy!” His brother’s name tore out of his throat as he took off running.

He vaguely heard Daryl call out behind him, but he ignored the hunter. Dean skidded around the corner, almost losing his balance in his haste to get to his little brother. Thoughts raced through Dean’s head, most of them mocking him and telling him to add another name to the list of loved ones that had died because he had been too slow, too stupid, not good enough. 

“Sam!” Dean shouted, his feet pounding the last few feet to the burning house. “Sammy!”

The small cabin stood before him and the door was oddly still firmly closed. He lowered his shoulder, fully intending to break down the wooden door that was blocking him from Sam.

Dean thought he heard a faint cry of “Dean!” from within the house, but he didn’t have the time to fully listen as a man stepped into view, blocking his path to the door. He didn’t recognize the man, but he did notice that the man was armed and ready to keep Dean from getting to his brother. 

His mistake.

Dean smashed into the man, sending them both flying into the side of the burning house. Both of them bounced off the wall of the house before falling to the ground. Dean rolled to the side, his hand going down to his belt grasping for his knife.

The man sprang to his feet, his hands hurriedly cambering a round into his pistol. Dean's fingers finally wrapped around the knife and he tore it out of its sheath. Then, in one fluid motion, the knife had left his hand and had buried itself into the man’s throat.

The man gave a gurgle of surprise, his hand going up to grasp at the wound that was gushing blood, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell backward onto the ground.

Dean pulled himself to his feet and turned to the wooden door. He pressed his palms against it, ignoring the burn of heat.

“Sam?” he called through the door. 

“Dean?” the reply came quickly, though the voice was hoarse from the smoke. “What’s going on?”

“We’re under attack,” Dean said grimly. “Stand back. I’m going to get you out of there.”

There was a scuffle of movement from inside and Dean took a few steps back before charging the door.

The door was ripped off its hinges and fell inward with Dean on top of it, but he quickly rolled off and got to his feet. He squinted into the flames, looking for his moose of a brother. “Sam?”

“I’m right here," Sam called from the side of the doorframe. He was crouched near the ground, holding his limp arm. Sweat covered his face and left his hair hanging in loose strands.

Dean put his arm around his brother’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. Together the two of them exited the burning building.

Once they were several yards away from the house, Dean loosened his grip on Sam and the two of them slumped to the gravel road, breathing heavily. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, immediately turning to his brother.

Sam gave him a weak smile. 

“Been better.”

Dean sighed in relief and squeezed his eyes shut, thanking his lucky stars that his brother was okay.

“This day couldn’t get any worse,” Sam commented from Dean’s side.

“Oh, it’s about to,” the new voice came from above the brothers. Both Sam and Dean looked up and were met with several barrels of automatic weapons being poked into their faces.

“Shit,” Dean mumbled.

* * *

“Dean!” Daryl called after the older Winchester as he took off running to the burning house. He was ignored as Dean continued to run away from him.

With a growl of frustration, Daryl took off running in the opposite direction back to the main gate; he had to let Rick and Shane know that something was happening. They had to get help to Dean and then make sure the camp was secure, because Daryl knew that Sam’s house didn’t just set itself on fire.

Daryl was so intent on getting to the main gate that he missed the figure that came flying out of the darkness, knocking him off his feet. Daryl’s crossbow was ripped from his hands, as the two men tangled together, rolling in the dirt.

Daryl somehow ended up on top of the attacker with his head lying on the other man's legs. Daryl pulled back his feet and smashed them into the man’s nose, receiving the satisfying sound of a howl of pain. He curled his legs back around, sitting up on top of the man's stomach. 

The man bucked underneath him and threw a fist out, hitting Daryl's ribs. 

Daryl’s body instinctively arched away from the fist, reacting to the pain. His wound from the wendigo blossomed with pain, as the man pounded his fist into Daryl’s side again.

With ease the man was able to shove Daryl off him. Daryl fell onto his side, his arms going over his head, trying to protect himself from the worst of the onslaught as the man continued to smash his fists into Daryl.

“How do you like that?! Huh?” the man spat, pausing in his beatings as he got to his feet. That was his mistake.

Daryl let out an almost inhuman snarl and lashed his legs out, knocking the man over once again. The man buckled and landed on his back. The breath whooshed out of him, and he gasped for air.

Daryl’s hand went down to his belt, pulling out his buck knife as he scuttled forward to the man.

The man, no more than a boy really, gasped as he saw Daryl’s wild eyes and the knife in his hand.

“Please!” he cried, “Don’t kill me!” He winced and lifted his arms to cover his face.

Daryl paused only a moment, before he raised his knife to plunge into his attacker.

“Please!” the boy sobbed.

Without his consent, a stab of pity leapt into Daryl’s heart and his knife slowly lowered. Daryl growled in frustration. He drew back his fist and punched the boy in the face, knocking the boy unconscious.

“Dammit,” Daryl growled, getting to his feet with some difficulty. He held a hand to his throbbing ribs, and felt a wet trickle of blood seeping through his thin shirt; the cuts from the wendigo had probably opened up again. 

“Idiot boy," he muttered, as he stooped down to grab the boy’s arm and started to pull him to the fence. Daryl may not have killed him, but he couldn’t allow him to walk free.

He let the boy fall against the fence, and started to go through his pockets looking for something to tie the boy with.

Where’s the stupid, fucking rope when you needed it?

An unfamiliar voice suddenly rang through the night. “Randall?”

Daryl froze and slowly turned to face the new threat.

“Randall, where are you?” Another voice joined the first. There was more than one of them out there.

“Shit,” Daryl muttered.

* * *

 

“Do you see that?” Rick suddenly said, pointing out to the block of houses. Shane followed Rick’s pointing finger and squinted.

“See what?” he asked.

“There’s a glow, like a light or something,” Rick said. He looked back to Shane a worried look glinting in his eyes. “What do you think it is?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Shane responded, turning back to face the gate.

“Something’s going on,” Rick said. “We need to go check it out.” Rick was ready to set off to the glow, but he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. 

“We need to stay here and watch the gate,” Shane said, letting his hand fall back to his side. “What if those bastards come when we’re gone checking out that glow, which is probably nothing.”

Rick gave a reluctant nod. “You’re right.”

“Damn straight.”

Rick let out a frustrated sigh and looped his finger onto his belt.

“Don’t worry, partner,” Shane said with a small grin. “It’s nothing. Besides Dean—,” he put as much loathing as he could into Dean’s name, “—has probably already seen it and is checking it out. You can’t be everywhere at once, man.”

Rick slowly nodded, knowing his friend was right, but hated not being in charge of the entire situation.

There was a sudden and low growl from outside the gate, causing both men to stiffen.

“Did you hear that?” Rick said quietly.

Shane gave him a grim nod.

“It better not be what I think it is.”

Another growl joined the first, this time followed by the gate rattling as a body bounced into it.

“Walkers!” Rick spat, his gun springing out of his belt. He didn’t shoot, hoping that there was only a few of the walkers and that they could be taken care of with a few precise stabs with a knife through the gate.

More groans came from outside, and the fence started to push inward as more and more walkers piled into it.

“There’s too many of them,” Shane said. “The gate's not gonna hold them; they’re going to come through.”

Rick knew Shane was right; the walkers were coming through and there wasn’t much either of them could do about it.

“Shit,” he muttered.

* * *

 

Castiel’s angel senses flared; a feeling that had been gone for too long. His head jerked up sharply; something was wrong.

He looked around the empty area near the RV, trying to figure out what was going on. Castiel stood very still, his head cocked to the side as he listened to the silence, which was only broken when a shout of “Dean!” was yelled out a distance from where he stood. 

Castiel immediately prepared to take off running to where he had heard the shout, ready to do anything to save his friend, when something prickled in the back of his skull. He looked to the sky, his blue eyes trying to pinpoint what his senses were telling at him to run from.

The sky was dark; no stars poked through the clouds. Castiel frowned. No stars? A black cloud was swirling above him, and suddenly Castiel knew what danger was coming.

“Demons," he hissed, his silver knife sliding out of his sleeve and into his hand.

The black cloud turned sharply and headed to where he stood. For a second the cloud seemed to disappear, but Castiel knew that the devil spawn was merely finding vessels or meat suits, as the Winchesters liked to say, to occupy.

In seconds, the people that had filled the town were suddenly filling the streets, but they were not themselves anymore. They were now demons.

The demons turned their black eyes on Castiel as he stood facing them, with his back to the RV.

Adopting one of Dean’s favorite words, Castiel gritted out, “Shit.” 

* * *

 

“Payne,” Dean spat out, automatically scooting forward to hide Sam from view. “I should have known that it was your idea to burn my brother alive.”

“It’s no more than he deserves,” Payne sneered and nodded at some of his men. The men walked around their leader and grasped Dean and Sam’s arms.

Both brothers were pulled to their feet and Dean’s knife was taken away. Then the men stepped back forming a circle around the brothers.

Sam began to cough heavily, doubling over. Dean reached his hand out, grabbing his brother’s shoulders.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said softly, “Easy. Deep breaths.”

“Step away from Sam, Dean,” Payne said, “You know what we came here to do. Let us do what we have to and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Is that before or after you take what we have?” Dean snapped.

Payne shook his head, “I warned you about the men that came here with me.”

“So either way, I’m dead too,” Dean said. He let out a harsh laugh. “I’m not handing Sam over.”

Payne didn’t look too concerned about Dean’s refusal. He looked past the older Winchester to Sam.

“What do you think, Sammy? Are you really going to let these people die for you?”

“Go to hell,” Sam bit out.

Payne laughed. “You first.”

He glanced around at the men that surrounded the Winchesters. “It looks like we have our answer, boys.”

* * *

 

Daryl cursed again. He tried to make himself smaller against the fence, but didn’t know how well the long grass would cover him and Randall.

“Randall, man, stop fooling around and come out. Payne wants us at the front gate.”

Daryl’s hand went to his shoulder, before he remembered that he had dropped his crossbow a few feet from the fence line.

He clenched his teeth, biting off the swear word that had threatened to pop out.

“Urgh…” Daryl’s head snapped to the side. Randall’s eyes were starting to flutter; obviously Daryl hadn’t hit him hard enough.

“Is that you, Randall?” the voice persisted. He must have heard Randall’s pitiful moan.

There was a scuffle of movement and the men started to come forward, looking for Randall.

Daryl gritted his teeth and slowly started to move down the fence line, away from the men.

“Hey,” the voice rang out, making Daryl freeze. “Randall?” the voice continued. There was a rustle of noise as the man started to come towards Daryl.

Daryl hissed a swear word under his breath; he knew that he would be able to take on one or maybe even two men, but from the sound of it, there were five or more of them. So Daryl made a decision and took off running.

There was a cry behind him and then the pounding of feet against the gravel.

Daryl ducked his head and his shoulders tensed; he expected a bullet to slam into his back at any moment.

“Stop!” the voice was closer this time; the man was gaining on him.

Daryl huffed and pushed himself harder, when suddenly his booted foot caught on some unseen thing on the ground and he went sprawling. Daryl shot his hands out to catch himself. The impact of his hands smashing into the gravel and grass jarred Daryl’s entire body. Stones bit into his hands and his arms buckled under his weight. His momentum was still driving him forward, so Daryl flipped over his hands and landed heavily on his back.

The breath whooshed out of him and Daryl fought to breathe as he struggled to get to his feet.

“Not so fast.” A heavy foot placed itself on Daryl’s heaving chest, holding him to the ground. A face hovered over Daryl. The man’s eyes were hard and calculating.

“Where’s Randall?” he asked.

Daryl’s lip curled into a sneer and he didn’t answer.

The man pressed down on Daryl’s chest with his boot, making Daryl yelp as his wounded side was pressed down.

“Tell me where our friend is,” the man spoke again, this time his voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl grimaced, knowing that this man wasn’t one that he should mess with. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by another voice.

“Dave!” The man looked over to where another man was making his way over to Daryl and his capturer.

The new, heavyset man, stopped in front of his friend. “We found Randall. He was dragged up against the fence.”

Dave’s eyes narrowed. “Is he dead?”

The heavyset man shook his head, “Nah. Just knocked out. He was coming around after you took off after this one.” He jerked his chin at Daryl.

Dave looked down at Daryl and finally took his foot off Daryl’s chest. He reached down and grabbed one of Daryl’s arms.

“Grab his other arm, Tony,” Dave told the other man.

The large man grasped Daryl’s arm and together the two men half carried, half dragged Daryl’s back to where they had left Randall and their other friends.

They dumped him to the ground at their feet. Daryl bit off a groan, as his body hit the dirt again.

Daryl struggled to get up, but was giving a warning shove by Dave. Instead, Daryl stayed on his knees, giving the other men his patented glare.

Tony looked over to Dave, who was obviously the leader. “What do we do about him?”

Dave rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking over Daryl. “Payne wants us at the front gate, so that’s where we’re going. We can’t keep him with us and we can’t let him go.” He gave Tony a meaningful look. The heavy man grinned in reply.

“Randall, do you want to do the honors?” Tony asked the skinny young man, who was hovering behind the others.

Randall paled, but moved forward. “Do you got a knife?” he asked, trying and failing, to keep his voice from cracking.

Dave, still staring at Daryl, pulled his knife out of his belt and handed it to the kid.

“Make it quiet,” he said. “We don’t want to attract anyone else.”

* * *

 

“They’re coming through!” Glenn shouted, trying in vain to hold the front gate, but the walkers were still coming through.  

“The town is going to be overrun,” Jesse said, coming up to Rick. His voice was grim, and Rick wanted to disagree, but he knew that Jesse was right. The walkers were going to come through and there was not much that they could do about it.

“We can hold them here," Rick said, but Shane was already shaking his head.

“We can try, but some will get through.”

Rick let out a hiss and rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. He looked over to Jesse and jerked his chin at some of Jesse’s men.

“Send them to the people. We have to get everyone out of here.”

Jesse gave one of his men a curt nod, sending him off to do ask Rick asked.

“Guys!” Glenn yelped and jumped away from the gate, just as a mouthy walker tried to take a chuck out of his arm.

With Glenn’s weight no longer pushed against the fence, it started to cave inward with the force of the walkers piling against it.

“They’re coming though!” Glenn called, bringing his knife up and backing up to where Rick and Shane were standing.

“What do we do?” he asked, fear in his voice. “We can’t take them all on our own.”

Rick’s mouth was dry as he brought up his gun. “We have to try,” he said. 

* * *

 

“Castiel, Angel of the Lord,” one of the demons spat, coming forward. “We were told to let you live. Our master finds it amusing that you’re helping the Winchesters try to defy their destiny.”

Castiel didn’t reply, but his hold tightened on his silver knife.

The demon inched closer, a sly grin on his face. “I don’t want to let you live,” he said, “I could tell my master that you were a casualty that couldn’t be helped.

He looked back to the other demons and licked his lips. His head snapped back around to face Castiel.

Castiel stood his ground and brought up his knife. “All of this is your doing,” Castiel said. He gestured around him to the pitiful camp that they stood in. "This world that we now live in. It's you and your master's fault." His lips curled in disgust. 

The demon narrowed his eyes, “This wasn’t us, Castiel.”

Castiel returned the glare, not believing a word that the demon spewed.

“Our master didn’t want this. He let it happen, but something else caused this to happen.”

Castiel frowned, almost believing the demon. “This wasn’t Lucifer’s doing?”

The demon shook his head, “No. He didn’t want this, but he hopes that your two pets can get out of this mess and back on track.” He took another step forward. “Enough of this. It’s time for you to die, angel.”

* * *

 

Dean glared at Payne, his mouth set into a grim line. Payne leaned forward, pressing his gun against Dean’s forehead.

“Get out of the way.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t move.

“Go ahead,” Dean said softly. “Kill me.” He pushed his head forward so that the barrel of the gun was digging into his head. “Do it.”

Payne seemed a little taken back at Dean’s command. He knew that the Winchesters were some of the most feared hunters in America, but he didn’t think they were crazy.

“You know I will, Winchester,” Payne said. “Do you really want to die protecting the man that started this whole mess? Besides, once you’re dead, he’s next.”

“What makes you think I’ll stay dead?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Payne frowned, confused.

Dean didn’t give him any more time to ponder his words as he suddenly brought one of his hands up to push the gun out of his face.

Payne’s fingers tightened in surprise, causing the gun to go off. The stray bullet hit one of his men, killing him.

Dean dove forward, tackling Payne to the dirt. Payne landed on his back, the wind momentarily knocked out of his lungs. Dean was straddling him, one hand trying to twist the pistol out of Payne’s grasp, while the other was gripping Payne’s throat.

Payne gasped for breath, desperately holding onto the gun that Dean was trying to wrestle out of his hand.

Payne suddenly snarled and he arched his back, trying to knock Dean off him. Dean, caught by surprise at Payne’s sudden retaliation, fell to the side. That gave Payne enough time to roll away from the older Winchester and regain his breath.

Dean scrambled on his hands and knees, going after Payne, who was still sitting on the ground, but was struggling to get to his feet.

Payne managed to pull himself up and at the same time Dean latched a hand onto Payne’s ankle.

Payne viciously kicked at Dean’s face with one booted foot. Dean’s head snapped back and his grip loosened. Payne took that moment to stagger away from Dean. He swung his pistol around, pointing the gun at Dean, who was still lying on the ground.

Dean looked up at him, no fear in his eyes. 

“Do it,” Dean said, repeating his words from earlier. “But know this, I’ll be coming back and when I get here again, I’m coming for you.”

Payne swallowed, suddenly doubting his quest to kill Sam, but his mouth tightened and his finger slowly began to squeeze around the trigger of his pistol.

A loud gunshot suddenly rang out and Payne’s head snapped to the side in an explosion of ruby blood.

Dean jerked in surprise as Payne’s body fell to the ground. He slowly turned his head to the side and saw that Sam, who he had left to take care of the remaining men, had killed all of the other men and was holding a pistol tightly in one hand. There was a dark glint in his eyes, and his face was emotionless.

Dean carefully got to his feet and slowly limped over to Sam so that he was facing his little brother.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, looking Sam up and down.

Sam nodded, lowering the gun down to his side. He was looking over Dean’s shoulder at Payne’s dead body and for a moment regret flashed over Sam’s face.

Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and started to pull him away from the bodies. “He had it coming, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and allowed Dean to drag him away from the mess they had left in their wake.

“C’mon. We need to get to the others,” Dean said, beginning to break out in to a trot. “Payne probably brought other men with him.”

* * *

 

The knife was pressed to Daryl’s throat. Daryl barred his teeth at the kid. Randall looked down at the hunter and gulped, the knife against Daryl’s neck jerked, nicking the skin.

A trickle of blood slowly began to make its way down Daryl’s skin, soaking into his collar.

“Whatcha waitin’ fer?” Daryl taunted the kid. “Do it.”

Randall swallowed, but he slowly started to press the blade harder against Daryl’s neck when a sudden and loud gunshot echoed through the night air.

Daryl, seeing his advantage as all of the men looked to where the noise had come from, jerked away from the knife and then ducked his head forward, knocking Randall to the ground.

Daryl wrestled the knife from Randall’s unresisting fingers and had flung it at the nearest enemy’s chest before any of the men had processed what was going on.

“Shoot him!” Dave snapped, bringing his own gun up to take aim at Daryl, who had sprang to his feet, dragging Randall up with him.

Using Randall as a shield, Daryl stumbled to where the man he had killed with the knife was lying in a pool of blood. He tripped and fell onto the body, with Randall falling on top of him.

Daryl rolled to the side, his hand gripping the knife that was sticking out of the dead man’s chest.

With a heave, he wrenched the knife out of the body and then sprang to his feet. Daryl was fully prepared to have his body riddled with bullets, maybe taking one or two of the bastards down with him, but what he didn’t expect was Sam and Dean to come barging into his fight.

Within moments, all five enemies were dead from Sam’s precise shooting.

Daryl slowly lowered the bloody knife to his side, his chest heaving with adrenaline. He looked up at Dean and Sam, relief on his face, which he quickly replaced with a scowl.

“What the hell took you so long?”

* * *

 

Castiel was prepared for the first demon that rushed at him and he jabbed upward with his silver knife, plunging it up into the demon’s skull. The demon fell away only to be replaced by another.

Castiel knew that the other demons were now circling around him, and they could, at any time, attack him all at once. He also knew that if they did that, he would not stand a chance.

Castiel snarled as he slashed his knife in a wide arc, cutting the chests of the nearest demons. They hissed in pain and jumped away from Castiel.

The main demon, warily standing a few steps away from the angel, pressed a hand to his bleeding chest.

“Just give up, angel,” he spat, “You’re going to die one way or another. If we don’t kill you, you’ll be killed by the horseman this very night.”

Castiel froze, his knife hanging above his head dripping blood onto the dirt.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “The fifth Horseman is here?” Castiel didn’t want to believe the demon.

The demon sneered in reply. “You’re a useless angel if you couldn’t even sense that. He’s been here the whole time. Why do you think that there seem to be an unusual amount of monsters that keep following the Winchesters?”

Castiel didn’t ask how he knew about the wendigo or the ghouls.

“He’s here and he’s going to kill them, angel,” the demon mocked, “He’s going to kill everyone.”

If the demon wanted to say something more, he wasn’t given the chance as a saturated blade was suddenly protruding through his ribs. His mouth opened into an O of surprise as his insides flickered before going out. The knife was ripped out and the demon fell dead to the dirt at Castiel’s feet.

Dean stood behind the demon, the bloody knife gripped in his hand. His mouth was etched into a snarl as he glared at the remaining demons.

Castiel noted that Sam and the winged tracker were standing behind Dean with weapons.

The remaining demons assessed the situation and decided to flee; none of them wanted to be on the receiving end of Dean or Sam Winchester. The bodies of the people the demons had been occupying dropped limply to the ground.

Dean took a few steps forward to grip Castiel’s forearm. Castiel looked blankly at the gesture, and after a few seconds of confusion assumed that this was a gesture similar to a handshake or hug.

“It’s good to see you alive, Cas,” Dean said, releasing his grip on his friend’s arm.

Castiel inclined his head, “Likewise.” He had picked that word up from movie that he seen on TV.

“It’s a good thing we were coming to get our weapons from the trunk of the impala," Sam commented from behind Dean. He walked forward, one of their numerous shotguns resting on his shoulder.

Dean nodded his agreement and decided not to think about what would have happened if they hadn’t showed up.

Castiel’s gaze roved over his friends and finally rested on Daryl, who shifted uncomfortably under the angel’s eyes.

“Dean,” Castiel said suddenly. “There is something that you must know.”

Dean looked at his friend and waited for Castiel to continue.

“This evil that is plaguing the world has not been caused by Lucifer.”

Sam nodded; they had already guessed that it might not have been the fallen angel who had caused the world to crumble.

“It is Chaos, the fifth Horsemen," Castiel said grimly. 

This news didn’t seem to affect the humans the way that Castiel expected it would have. They stared at him blankly.

“There’s _another_ horsemen?” Dean groaned. “How many of those bastards do we have to kill?”

“I thought there was only four,” Sam interjected, a confused look plastered to his face. How dare there be some supernatural knowledge that he wasn’t privy to.

Daryl didn’t say anything, but his lips grew thin.

Castiel turned his gaze back on Daryl.

“You know of whom I speak?” he asked, somewhat in surprise.

Daryl nodded. “My ma used to tell me stories abou’ him. Said he was supposed to be the last one to come durin’ the end of the world. He grew stronger as the chaos of the apocalypse spread; he would create chaos to feed upon.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “So we’ve dealing with a freaking horseman this entire time?” He raked a hand through his hair and looked back at Castiel. “Where is he, Cas? How do we kill him?”

Castiel blinked, “I do not know where he is," he said finally. “He could be anywhere.”

“Dammit,” Dean bit out. He had hoped that they would have been able to catch some sort of a break for once. 

“But, I believe that your fiend,” Castiel nodded at Daryl, “the tracker will be able to find him.”

Dean turned his green eyes to look at Daryl, and suddenly everything clicked into place.

It all made sense, from Castiel’s first cryptic saying to Daryl’s sudden “second sight." Daryl was the winged tracker that saw the truth. He had seen Sam’s black eyes, as well as Dean’s burning ones. Daryl had probably seen Castiel’s true form, which was most likely the reason that he had collapsed.

And somehow, Daryl was going to save them all.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I didn't even have to make that many edits/changes to it, which is surprising.   
> A couple of things (well one thing). I know that there's no "fifth horsemen," but I wanted a bad guy for my story that was evil enough to create this apocalyptic world and that the Winchesters hadn't dealt with yet. And I figured, since the show pretty much just make up whatever they want, I could too.   
> After this chapter, we only have one more to go, but it's a long one, which means that I probably won't post it for a while because it'll take me some time to edit it.   
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments from: evave2 and Spike.


	16. And Hell Followed With Him

**[And Hell Followed With Him]**

 

Daryl couldn't have heard Castiel right. His eyes moved from the dark haired man to Dean. Dean looked back grimly, and Daryl knew that he hadn't heard wrong. For some damned reason the crazy Winchesters and their strange friend believed that he was going to save the day. Bullshit. 

"Bullshit," Daryl said aloud, glaring at the three other men. 

Dean shook his head. "No, it's not. Believe me, Daryl, it--,"

Daryl cut Dean off as he marched forward, anger sparking in his eyes, and shot a hand out against Dean’s chest. Dean stumbled back a few steps, not expecting the sudden attack from Daryl.

Dean regained his balanced and glared back at Daryl. “How else can you explain what’s been going on with you?” he snapped.

Dean and Daryl scowled at each other; blue eyes meeting green; neither of them backing down.

There was a shrill yell from the front gate, which was across the field from where they stood. Both Dean and Daryl’s heads snapped to the side to try and see what was going on.

“Damn,” Sam spat out as he caught sight of dark figures begin to stagger away from the gate to the rest of the enclosed area. “Croats!” he barked out and without waiting for the others, he began to run to the gate.

Dean and Daryl’s argument quickly disappeared and they didn’t hesitant in following Sam as he ran the short distance across the field. Dean knew that Castiel also followed on their heels, his angel knife grasped tightly in one hand.

* * *

 

Rick tried to push down the despair that threatened to overwhelm him as he attempted to stop the swell of walkers that were coming through the collapsed gate, but he knew that walkers would eventually overrun them.

“Get that one!” Shane yelled from his right.

Rick twisted around to see a loose walker get away from Glenn and start to shamble into the rest of the camp. Rick tightened his grip on his gun and fired off a round into the walker’s head. The walker’s head snapped to the side before falling to the ground in a tangled mess of limps, but the walker was quickly replaced by another as more got away from Jesse and Glenn.

“There’s too many!” Shane called out, as he shoved the end of his knife into the nearest walker’s head. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“We can’t!” Rick shouted, slamming the butt of his gun into the skull of a walker. The decayed skull split in two and Rick turned his attention to another walker. “We’ve got to hold the gate, or everyone is dead.”

Shane shoved a walker out of his way so that he could stand next to Rick. “We’re not going to survive then," he snarled at his friend, his face tight with fear and anger.

Rick gritted his teeth and was about reply tersely to Shane, when a figure caught his eye. It was Sam. Hope flickered in his chest as he saw Dean, Daryl and Castiel following closely on the younger Winchester’s heels.

“We’re going to make it,” Rick said firmly to Shane, his eyes moving back to his friend. Shane looked to where Rick had been staring and caught sight of the others. For a moment, a strange look flitted across the cop’s face. If Rick didn’t know better he would have said it was hatred and a little bit of fear, but Rick couldn’t spend too much time thinking about it; walkers were still streaming through the gates and coming at them.

Sam entered the fray, his knife flashing as he slashed at the nearest croats. The monsters that were unlucky enough to be near him fell to the ground with their heads spilt open.

Dean was close on his brother’s heels, his own knife clasped in hand.

“Looks like you can use some help, sheriff,” Dean yelled at Rick, his eyes glinting wildly in the dim light. 

Rick gave him a shout of thanks in return. He noticed Daryl, too, was right behind the brothers with his crossbow up and firing, taking down his fair share of walkers. 

Sam tried to keep Dean in the corner of his vision, but it wasn’t easy as the swarm of undead bodies constantly cut him off from his brother. He knew that Dean would be able to take care of himself, but that didn’t stop fear from prickling at him.

Dean kept Daryl in his sights; he wanted to know if Daryl saw anything that could help them. He backed up, swinging at croats with his knife until he was standing next to Daryl.

“Dude, you see anything?” he yelled at Daryl.

Daryl shot him a glare. “No," he said shortly, not wasting the time to try and change Dean's mind about what Castiel had said about him. 

“Damn,” Dean returned, bringing his attention back to the croats that were staggering toward them. Dean slashed his knife up into a croat’s head, ignoring the blood and brain matter that spurted onto him. He was vaguely aware of Cas somewhere behind him, using that handy angel knife of his.

There was a sudden growl that echoed through the air, causing Dean to freeze in shock; that sound, the growl, couldn’t be right. His eyes sought out Sam’s and for a split second the brothers wordlessly exchanged incredulous looks. What was this monster doing here now?

“What the hell was that?” Daryl screamed, thrusting his knife into the skull of another walker, his bow pushed to the side for the moment.

“Monster,” Dean said shortly, his eyes flickering around the mass of bodies looking for the monster, while trying to fend of the croats.

“What monster?” Daryl asked, moving closer to where Dean was. He could see Sam doing the same.

“Werewolf,” Dean bit out as shape flew through the air, knocking Dean off his feet.

“Dean!” Sam cried, running to where his brother was grappling on the ground with what looked like just another person to Daryl.

Sam grabbed the back of the person that had tackled Dean and wrenched him off Dean.

Daryl caught a glimpse of almost silver eyes and a mouth full of fangs before Sam had twisted away from Daryl, the person—werewolf?—still in his arms.

“Dean,” Sam yelled, his voice tight as he struggled to hold onto the werewolf.

“Already on it, Sammy,” Dean said as he staggered to his feet, his hand already bringing out the gun in his belt.

There was a yelp from the werewolf and a cry from Sam and then the werewolf was out of Sam’s arms and running for Daryl.

Daryl backpedaled in alarm, wildly trying to avoid the walkers around them. The monster leapt into the air, its arms outstretched, but then a shot rang out and the werewolf dropped like a stone at Daryl’s feet.

Dean ran over to his friend, his silver colt pointed at the werewolf. He reached a hand out to grip Daryl’s arm, while he unloaded another round into the dead werewolf.

Sam trotted up to the other two, and for a moment the three of them were allowed a moment of rest.

Then the world exploded, or at least that’s what it felt like to Daryl. He was knocked away from Sam and Dean by an unseen force. Daryl let out a grunt on impact with the ground, but he quickly rolled onto his side and scrambled to his feet.

The air was heavy with a putrid stink, and all around him monster swirled. These weren’t walkers, these were the Winchester’s monsters; the ones that they had spoken of. The monsters ignored him; instead certain monsters ran directly for different members of their group.

The walkers didn’t seem to be trying to eat them anymore, instead they were just milling around.

Daryl’s frantic eyes sought out Rick, seeing him surrounded by what looked like see-through people. Rick’s eyes were wide with panic as he slashed the air around him with his gun, trying to hit the people that kept blinking in and out of view. 

Dean was almost engulfed by a mass of different types of monsters, though his movements were more controlled than Rick’s, he too seemed to be panicking in his own Winchester way.

Daryl swiveled his gaze around, catching sight of Sam and Castiel fighting off various members of the group, though they didn’t look like the people that Daryl had traveled with all of these weeks. Their faces were distorted and their eyes were black.

In the middle of all of this was a lone figure. Daryl ran forward, suddenly certain that this was the fifth horseman that Castiel had been speaking of. He skidded to a halt just a few feet away from the horseman, finally realizing who it was.

“Shane…” Daryl breathed, his eyes widening at the sight of the man, or what was left of the man that he knew. Shane seemed to have grown several feet and he towered above everyone else. His face was a grey color and his eyes a dark red. His mouth was open, and Daryl could feel the horseman tugging at the very air around him. 

True to his name, Chaos was feeding off the wild and hopeless emotions that churned around them. 

It didn’t take Daryl long to realize that no one else could see what the horseman was doing and for a moment Daryl didn't know what to do. 

“Dean!” Daryl cried, trying to get his friend’s attention; he wasn’t sure that he would be able to kill this thing on his own. If it could even be killed.

Daryl’s breath was abruptly forced out of his lungs as a large hand smashed into his chest. His crossbow was torn from his grasp as Daryl flew backward and landed on the gravel. He whipped his head up to see Shane looming over him. 

Shane leered at Daryl. “I was unsure about you when I first met you; I didn’t know what you were.”

Daryl snarled in return and fumbled for his knife down at his belt. Shane laughed at his attempts and reached forward with a hand. He picked Daryl up and then threw him back into the air again. Daryl fell to the ground heavily, but tried to scramble to his feet before the horseman came again.  

But Shane was already standing over his him, his speed impossible. He placed his booted foot on Daryl’s chest, preventing him from getting up.

“Puny human,” Shane said. “You and the Winchesters think you can stop me? _Me?"_

Daryl wrapped his hands around Shane’s foot on his chest and tried to shove it off.

“We’ll stop you,” Daryl grunted angrily. He pushed at the foot on top his chest, but wasn’t managing to move it at all.  

Shane’s eyes narrowed and he pressed down on Daryl’s chest.

Daryl’s ribs screamed in protest and he let out a muffled yell of pain. He gave up trying to push Shane’s foot off him, instead his hand found the knife in his belt.

Daryl whipped it out of its sheath and brought it up. He plunged it down into Shane’s foot, piercing through the leather shoe and cutting into the flesh.

Shane howled and the weight on Daryl’s chest lifted, allowing him to roll away.

He staggered to his feet, gripping his bloody knife tightly in his hand. Daryl felt a small moment of victory; Shane could be hurt and possibly killed by his weapons.

Shane was standing a few feet from Daryl, his eyes burning with fury. Daryl could see his face etched in pain from the wound in his foot, but his anger was quickly overwhelming the pain.

“Come on!” Daryl yelled, “You wanna kill me? Come on an' do it already.”

Shane’s mouth curled and for a moment he looked like he was going to charge Daryl, but then an idea seemed to spark in his mind. He sent Daryl a cruel smirk and his eyes moved to where the Winchesters were fighting their monsters.

Daryl followed his gaze and felt a weight drop into his stomach. He bit out a muffled swear word, knowing what Shane was going to do right before the horseman moved.

As soon as Shane began to step forward to where Dean was, Daryl was running through the mud toward his fallen crossbow. He dived to the ground, his hands scrambling for his weapon. Daryl’s hands closed around the handle of his bow and flipped onto his back so that he was facing Shane, who had just reached Dean. Daryl rapidly loaded an arrow onto his weapon just as Shane, with a call, ordered the monsters away from Dean. Whatever he was going to do, he obviously didn’t want any help from the other monsters.

Dean, at first, seemed confused to what was going on, but he quickly caught on when Shane reached down and grabbed the front of Dean’s jacket, pulling him off his feet so that he was dangling above the ground.

Daryl brought the crossbow up to his shoulder and took aim, his muscles quivering with the adrenaline pumping through him.

Shane smashed his fist into Dean’s face causing the elder Winchester’s head to snap to the side, blood flying from his mouth.

Daryl didn’t wait to see what Shane was going to do next; he squeezed the trigger releasing the arrow. It flew from the crossbow and embedded itself into Shane’s back. With a scream, he released Dean, who slumped to the dirt.

Daryl pushed himself up from the ground and took off running to Shane and Dean.

Shane had staggered away from the fallen Winchester his hand grabbing at the arrow protruding from his back.

Daryl skidded to a halt in front of Dean and reached down to give his friend a hand.

Dean shook his head a few times as if he was trying to clear it and then gripped the offered hand.

“What the hell was that?” Dean yelled over the screams and howls of the monsters that surrounded them. Daryl shot a quick look over to Shane to make sure the monster was still concentrating on the arrow instead of them.

“It’s Shane,” Daryl said hurriedly, dragging Dean with him away from Shane, “He’s tha’ thing. The horseman.”

Dean’s head snapped over his shoulder and his eyes sharpened. It seemed like he could finally “see” what Daryl could see.

“No shit?” Dean said. “It finally makes so much sense why that guy was such an asshole.”

“This ain’t the time!” Daryl snapped, releasing Dean’s arm. As soon as they broke contact, Dean jerked to a halt and he doubled over, his hands pressed to the sides of his head.

“What the hell,” Dean groaned. “I can’t…” He bit off the rest of his sentence and then straightened. It took Daryl two seconds to realize that Dean couldn’t “see” anymore.    

Without stopping to think it over, Daryl took a hold of Dean again; somehow knowing that if they had physical contact, Dean would be able to see what he could see.

There was a flicker of movement from their right and Shane suddenly loomed in front of them. He gave them a sneer and his hand shot out, knocking Dean away from Daryl.

Daryl let out a yell as Dean’s arm was ripped from his grasp and his friend landed heavily a few feet away from them. He began to backpedal from Shane, not wanting to fight the monster on his own; he needed to get to Dean.

However, Shane had other ideas. His hand snaked out grabbing a hold of Daryl’s vest, effectively holding him in place. His recently recovered crossbow was knocked from his hand.

Shane’s face was clear of any emotion now and Daryl swallowed, knowing what was coming.

The horseman pulled back his other hand, a knife glinting in his grasp, and after a slight pause he plunged it into Daryl’s chest.

The breath was sucked into Daryl’s mouth and he wordlessly gapped at the handle sticking from his chest.

Shane released his hold on Daryl’s vest and let the hunter fall to the ground.

As Daryl lay on his back with blood leaking from his wound, he vaguely heard a distant scream from Dean and wondered what Dean had seen. Daryl’s hands slowly reached up and he touched the knife in his chest; he could feel his life beginning to drain from him.

Shane’s face was suddenly above his, sneering again, and Daryl knew what he had to do.

With a determination he didn’t know he possessed Daryl’s hand tightened around the knife’s handle and in one quick motion he ripped it free.

He couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his lips, but the pain didn’t stop him from taking the knife and slashing it across Shane’s exposed neck. Daryl didn’t see the horseman’s surprised expression as blood rained down from Shane’s sliced neck onto Daryl, blinding him. The horseman’s body fell on top of him, and Daryl felt a moment of satisfaction knowing that he had killed the monster.  

There was another yell from Dean and Shane's weight began to lift off him. Within seconds, Dean’s face hovered over his. His friend’s green eyes were wide with horror and panic.

“Daryl?” Dean said hoarsely. His hands were pressing against Daryl’s chest, trying to stop any more blood from escaping. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll make it okay. I promise.”

Daryl smiled slightly, blood sliding from the corner of his mouth. 

“Dammnit, Daryl, don’t you die on me! You can’t die!” Dean’s voice was fading, but that was okay. Daryl didn’t feel the pain anymore and darkness was beginning to close in around him.

* * *

 

 “Daryl!” the name tore from Dean’s mouth as he watched his friend begin to slip away. “No!” He pressed his hand down against the hole in Daryl’s chest, causing more blood to bubble out of Daryl’s mouth.

With a cry Dean fell away from Daryl, his bloody hands going up to his face. He pressed them against his eyes, trying to scrub away the death of another friend. 

Dean clenched his teeth together and slowly brought his hands away from his eyes…

…And Dean looked up from his car’s dashboard. His head jerked down, half expecting Daryl to be lying in a puddle of blood next to him. 

“Sammy,” Dean shouted, his head jerking to his right. He let out a tense breath; his little brother sat in the passenger seat of the Impala looking as confused as he felt.

“What the hell just happened?” Sam demanded, his hands pressed against his head.

“I believe it was Daryl Dixon,” Castiel’s voice from the backseat made both Dean and Sam jerk and go for their weapons, only relaxing when they had twisted around in their seats to look at their friend.

“Daryl stopped Chaos,” Castiel continued, leaning forward. “When he died everything reversed.”

“Reversed?” Dean said. “Daryl’s not dead?”

 “How?” Sam spoke up. “We lived through the last few weeks with that group, but you're saying that somehow those weeks never happened. How far has everything gone back?” Sam asked, quickly looking out the impala’s window.

It was then that they realized how bright it was outside and how clean everything looked. Not to mention that they were parked in front of a crummy motel, just like normal.

Dean jerked his head back around to look at Castiel. “You mean to tell me that we’ve gone back? Back to before this whole mess?”

“Yes," Castiel said. “A day before the virus spreads to be exact.”

“Do we have to stop it?” Dean asked, ready to do whatever was necessary to stop the horror from happening again.

“No,” Castiel said. “I believe that Michael and the others will not allow it to happen again. The angels and Lucifer tire of waiting. They want their vessels now.” He gave the Winchesters a pointed look. 

Sam felt a shiver run down his spine and he wondered for a moment how they were going to stop that from happening. He pushed those thoughts away as Dean spoke again.

"So…does this mean that no one remembers what happened except us?” 

Castiel nodded. “No one will ever recall these past—or rather future—events.”

Dean let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “What the hell, man,” He mumbled into his hand. “Was this all some sort of sick test from the angels up there? Some kind of joke? Because I'm not laughing.”

Castiel shrugged. “I do not know.”

“It does seem like something they would do,” Sam said slowly, “just to teach us a lesson.”

"This has got Zach's finger prints all over it," Dean agreed. His eyes flashed angrily at the thought of the angels screwing with him _again_.

There was a fluttered of wings and Castiel disappeared. Dean snorted and then said: “Goodbye to you too, Cas.”

After a few seconds he spoke again, “We should roll. I never liked Georgia and I like it even less now." 

Dean reached down, turning the keys so that the engine roared to life. He shifted gears on the car and slowly pressed the gas down. The impala rolled forward and soon they were cruising down Main Street.

Sam stared out the widow, trying not to look amazed. “Everything’s so normal,” he said before letting out a strangled gasp, causing Dean to swerve the car, which earned him several honks and a few choice words from the people around him.

“What the hell, Sammy!” Dean snapped, glancing around to look at what Sam was staring at. He felt his own mouth drop a little at the sight. 

It was Lori and Carl. They were playing in a playground, both looked happy and carefree, which were expressions that both Winchesters had never seen on their faces.

Dean shook his head in amazement, but continued driving. The brothers didn’t speak as, one-by-one, they saw their people from the horror of the apocalypse.

There was T-Dog with what looked like his wife or girlfriend strolling down the sidewalk, their hands intertwined.

Andrea and another younger girl sat outside a diner where an RV was parked, they were chatting to Dale and another woman.

Glenn zoomed by them on a bike, pizza boxes strapped to his bike. He swerved around several cars before disappearing from sight.

Carol was standing outside a small grocery store with Sophia next to her; a man was facing them with an angry frown on his pudgy face. There was a determined look on Carol’s face and Dean wondered what she had just told the man.

The Impala was nearing the edge of town when they passed a parked cop car. Both Sam and Dean automatically ducked their heads, but not before catching sight of Rick and Shane sitting inside it, laughing.

Dean slowly took a right turn and began to head out of town. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed; they hadn’t seen Daryl. He had wanted a look at what their friend had been before the shitstorm of the apocalypse.

Sam seemed to know what his brother was thinking and he spoke up.“I’m sure he’s fine, Dean. He’s not dead anymore.”

Dean mutely nodded. They had pulled out onto a long, abandoned highway when there was a roar of an engine and a motorcycle rocketed past them. Dean’s eyes followed the bike, sure that Daryl was on it, but he was disappointed when he realized the man riding the bike was balding and sturdier built than Daryl. The biker abruptly swerved, coming back the way he had just come. He glared at the Winchesters through the glass of the Impala's windshield before passing by them. 

After a few minutes of driving in silence, Dean squinted up ahead; there was a lone figure walking alongside the road. Not knowing why, Dean slowed the car down as they neared the walking man.

Dean’s heart jumped into his mouth as he caught a glimpse of the familiar white wings on the back of a vest.

The man turned to look at the car, a scowl on his face, though it lessened as he took in the black beauty that rumbled beside him.

Dean wanted to stop the car and grab Daryl, clasp his hand and demand that the redneck hunter get in the car with them, but he didn’t. Daryl didn’t know them anymore and he never would.

As the Impala slowly passed Daryl, Dean’s eyes caught the hunter’s and for a spilt second Dean could have sworn that recognition glinted in Daryl’s blue eyes.

Then the impala passed him and Daryl was left behind.

Dean sighed heavily and reached forward to the radio. He pushed a button and loud music abruptly blared through the speakers. Dean threw a quick look to Sam, _It’s just us again._

Sam nodded and gave him a small smile, _we’ll be okay._

Dean’s eyes went back to the road and he settled himself farther into his seat, preparing himself for the long journey ahead of them.

* * *

 

Daryl watched as the black ’67 Impala drove away from him. He shook his head, trying to push away the feeling that he knew that car and the men inside it. He should be more concerned about what Merle would say when he found out that Daryl had taken his leather vest. Again.

Daryl smirked as he pictured his brother’s face, but the smirk fell away as his brother’s face was replaced with another. The man from the car was staring back at him with green eyes and Daryl knew without a doubt that _Dean Winchester_ was more of a brother to him than Merle ever was.

Daryl felt a pang at the name that came to mind. For a reason he didn’t know, Daryl felt like he had just lost a friend, quite possibly his only friend.

Daryl let out a grunt and shook his head. He continued to tramp down the edge of the road. It didn’t matter anyway. It’s always been him and it will always just be him. He didn’t need anyone else, but deep down Daryl knew that wasn’t quite true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who forgot about this story? It was me, I forgot about this story. But in my defense I was finishing up my (very) stressful semester.   
> This story is now finished and I hope you all enjoyed it. I remember how much fun I had writing it and trying to make everything work/make sense.   
> Also, I know that not all of the original group would've been in Georgia (was it even Georgia? I literally don't remember where this show takes place anymore) or whatever, but I wanted to have Sam and Dean see them all alive.   
> Thanks everyone for sticking with my very sporadic updates and for the comments and kudos from everyone!   
> Well, that's it for me.


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